Workshop Series

Hello friends,

I'm eager to share with you an upcoming workshop. No Divide KC partnered with Gilda's Club to offer a four-part writing workshop series. No Divide KC 'uses the arts as a vehicle for stimulating social awareness, participation and community building.' And, as you may already know, Gilda's Club provides support services for folks impacted by cancer. It's really an honor and thrill to be collaborating with these two organizations.

If you or anyone you know has been touched by cancer, please share this information with them. Anyone can sign up for the workshop series, which will be provided in person as well as on zoom.

Hope to see you there!

Mary

a generous storm

So many people hate winter, hate the cold, hate the dark. Get depressed. We live inside an unrelenting capitalist construct that denies winter as a factor in our day-to-day existence. And that construct seems more real to us than actual seasons. So real that we don’t change our routines to match the seasons. Maybe though we hunger to slow down in the winter, turn inward in absolute coziness; hunker down for a spell or at least take on different routines. Instead, we strive to stick to the same 24/7/365 schedule disregarding winter’s invitation to slip into different habits for our mammalian bodies. I wonder if it’s actually our modern lives that we’re averse to because they prevent us from experiencing winter in nourishing ways.

In the recent snow, I found myself grateful. I live on a block where neighbors watch out for one another. Helping shovel, sharing homemade cookies, offering resources in case the electricity goes out. I myself love free exercise. So of course I relished shoveling the driveway I share with a neighbor, the sidewalks in front of the houses on either side of me, the steps of those houses. I also loved the opportunity to hibernate.

When I didn’t feel like shoveling, I laid on the couch and read; my cat contentedly purring on my chest. I simmered soup on the stove. I baked pies and quiches with leaf lard from a local farmer. My crust was transcendent! I watched the snow. I was quiet. I was content. I had more alone time than expected-a generosity of solitude. I loved the wide-open space to feel what my body wanted and follow my own rhythms of stillness and activity. All this abundance, provided by a winter storm. I didn’t spend my time wishing for something other than what was happening or complaining about the IS I was inside of. I savored the confluence of circumstances that allowed me to explore winter’s call for hibernation. What a generous snow storm.

do you see what I see?