I indulged myself today by participating in a creative writing workshop facilitated by my friend, Chris Kay Fraser. She's a great facilitator, and a terrific writing coach. As I'm planning to do something creative and out of the ordinary in the actual writing of the thesis, I thought I'd invest a few hours and play. Throughout the session, she offered us prompts to engage in free-writing exercises that allowed us to "turn off our brains" and engage with the affective parts of our beings, and just write. Having spent the past four years in this particular environment, it's been a while since I've given myself permission to connect with a flow of consciousness. I'll share two of what flowed from today's session:
Shake the Dance
Shake the dance of joy and disturbance away from my complacency.
Shake the dance down to the root of being and up to the sky of existence.
Shake the dance of the world and bring joyous sunlight to all who desire enlightenment and lightening of spirit.
Shake the dance and bring a righteous noise to the deaf and a rousing sound to the voiceless.
Shake the dance for the leaden and jump them to the hilltops amidst the frolicking of children.
Shake the dance of the downtrodden and give them wings to free their spirits.
Shake the dance of the spirits who first inhabited our souls and gave us unity.
Shake the dance for everyone, and for everything, and for everywhere, and for all time.
There's nothing like the exhilaration of an audience's energy when I've got them. When I can throw an idea out to them, and they catch it, and hold tight as the idea's wings burst forth and soar to the top of the room.
People hold onto whatever part of the idea's back, or claws, or wings, or beak, or head, or even a single feather that they can.
And they soar together, the people and the idea. They soar high above their chairs, high above the floor of the room, and the stage on which I stand, and high above those left below, unable or unwilling to grasp the soaring idea.
Those above look down to where they once were rooted with minds filled with the weighty clay of convention. They look down with wonderment, and marvel at how much closer to the source of light and understanding they have come on the wings of a soaring idea.
And I am there, at the front of the room, looking up at them and smiling with the exhilaration of knowing that I have launched them skyward, to fly wherever the idea may take them.
[Technorati tags: inspiration | poetry | chris kay fraser]