Aloha, in a loft in NYC

\”A greeting of love and compassion; also means \”to be in the presence of the divinity\” or in the presence of (alo) the \”divine breath of life\” (Ha). \”
[From Wikipedia]

On the bus on the way up to New York, I felt a bit anxious: what if this writing workshop didn\’t live up to my expectations? They were pretty high-I\’d been waiting years to go to it.  Beth and I could not recall how long we\’ve been Facebook friends, but it\’s been a number of years.  And in the last two, I\’ve been trying to get to her workshop when she\’s on the East Coast (which is pretty rare) and even tried to get her to do one in my home, but we couldn\’t make the schedule work.

So it\’s safe to say I\’ve been waiting A LONG TIME to take her workshop. And often, when I build something up that much–simply because of the buildup, nothing else–I am disappointed.

Not the case this past weekend.

No, this weekend I sat in a light-filled loft in the Flatiron District that Beth turned into a creative universe, in the presence of 9 beautiful women, writing my heart out and then sharing it. Listening and bearing witness to their hearts, through their writing.  Feeling the magic of our collective creativity flowing around us. When it was time to go, I said: \”I feel like time has been suspended. 
I feel like I just got here.\”

I must say: when Beth told me to \”Bring a journal, we write by hand,\” I was not happy. I type about 20 times faster than I write, and I think faster than both. So using my laptop closes that gap quite a bit more than writing in a journal does.  I worried I wouldn\’t do any good writing.

Boy, was I wrong.

And no, I\’m not tooting my own horn. The writing wasn\’t technically perfect, or even poetic. But it was so authentic. I was writing ME, straight from my memory, my heart, my spirit. And then I got to receive the words of the other women writing their authentic selves.  

I know this may sound strange to say about a writing workshop, but it\’s not primarily about the writing. It\’s about the stories, about the expression. It\’s about getting quiet enough to hear and write down what floats up from the space we allow when we are still. When we can tune out everything else and tune in to ourselves.  The sacredness of the quiet in Beth\’s workshops, along with the juiciness of her prompts, is a synergy that I\’ve never quite experienced before.  

I have an approach-avoidant relationship with writing, not unlike some other things that nourish and feed me (see: yoga, and meditation). I\’m not disciplined, I\’m either writing prolifically or not at all, most times.  In Beth\’s workshop, though, I just kind of sank into my writing and it seemed just to flow out of me. I didn\’t falter, or stop to edit, the pen just kept on moving across the page.

And then I got to share my words. And receive the words of the other women.  And Beth brought ALOHA to the winter chill of the city. 
\”the presence of (alo) the \”divine breath of life\” (Ha). \”
We all have the presence of the divine breath of life in us–but too often it takes the right conditions  to remember that. To connect with it, to dance with it in your heart and your breath and on the page.

Beth brings those conditions. She also brought deliciously fragrant soaps from Hawaii. (pictured, to the left of my journal) \”This is how Hawaii smells!\” she said as she laid them out on the counter for us to choose.

Beth\’s writer\’s workshop was worth the wait. I am excited to dig in and continuing to work with the pieces I wrote.  And– I can\’t wait to do it again.  I will though, patiently,  until she returns to the East Coast. But maybe if I save up, I can swing going to Hawaii-and get to write surrounded by the actual fragrance of the island.

Until then, I will take in the fragrance of the soap. And carry with me, in my mind and in my heart,  the stories of the other women, always.

Learn more about Beth HERE.