Sisters in the wood... returning to self thru formative art practices

This week I am at a workshop in Asheville, NC and had the opportunity to attend two break-out sessions on creative spiritual formation. During the first session, in which I created the drawing shown here, I recalled a time in my life where I felt "funky." After a guided meditation, this drawing emerged. After I had added color, I remembered an author called SARK (http://planetsark.com/blog/) that I used to like to read -- she published her journals of colored drawings and words that were an inspiration to me during me early recovery years. As I looked at my picture, I decided to "Sark" it up.

This year feels like a time to invite the return of the funky side. Perhaps today was another step in returning to my more authentic self of long ago. At today's workshop, the theme of being centered, having my voice heard and re-embracing all the spiritual people, experiences, teachings and nuances that have influenced my life felt forefront and alive with messages of remembrance. I'm not sure what to call what I wrote in break-out session #2, but I love it.

Said                   Enters
Believe              Opens
Continue            Hears
Know                 Calls
Make                 Leads

O sister in this wood
     around this wood
       burning
         circle
           under the moon
             @ night.

My friend Irit invited me to her Israeli-infused fire circles. I became a regular attendee at these gatherings. They were the birthplace of my vulnerability where secrets came easier into the cold, dark night with shadows dancing on faces that I trusted because I did not know them. When I held the talking stick, heavy in my lap, my voice was heard in open spaces without interruption, judgement, fixing or response. I was left to staring into the fiery light... heat of dancing flames to consume my words, tinge my skin and draw me deeper. My sisters in the woods heard me, nodded without motion and we made agreements between our souls to love each other in our uncommon commonness.

Where did that voice go?
                                          Into
                                                a
                                                  valley
                                                            in which
                                                                         I
                                                                          have
                                                                                 stayed.