Cows, Flowers and Hot Springs

How amazing does Wilbur Hot Springs look? They have flowers and cows! That’s my kind of retreat. What can I say; I’m a country girl.

I’m going to be leading writing sessions at Christy Brown’s weekend-long retreat at Wilbur Hot Springs in late September, and I’m excited/anxious because this is going to be my first time teaching writing. I taught yoga for about ten years and I’ve been a manager of enough small businesses that I’m comfortable teaching employees this and that: how to fix the danged printer, how to fill a paper towel dispenser, how to keep a smug smile on your face when customers are totally obnox. Obviously, I’m a big believer in teaching mostly by example. But I’ve never taught writing, and this is minorly intimidating to me.

To be fair, I’m not going to be teaching anyone how to write. I am not qualified for that. I’m just going to be leading short journaling sessions in between the yoga classes. This is mostly Christy’s retreat, and let me just take a sec here to say that Christy is one of my worldwide favorite yoga teachers and someone who I consider a “real” yogi… she’s one of the most authentic people I know. Whatever that means. I guess we are all authentic by its very definition, but Christy’s authentic is more authentic than a lot of yoga teachers I know. She’s kind, she’s compassionate, she doesn’t judge, and she leads 100% by example. (Kind of like me with the smug condescending attitude toward customers. We all have our niche.)

Regardless of the low level of pressure associated with this job, I am taking it seriously and really looking forward to it. I’ve been brainstorming things to lead as far as journaling goes, and my mind keeps coming back to one particular exercise I’ve partaken in through The Artist’s Way and the phony yoga superstar I used to work for. It’s always been a real powerful experience for me.

Here’s what you do:

Write a letter to yourself, as if you had a split personality disorder. The personality writing the letter should be your kindest, most compassionate, most tactful, and most generous one. The personality receiving the letter is your bratty, wounded inner 5-year-old. Gay-sounding, I know, but once you’ve received one of these letters, you get the power of it. The key is that the letter gets mailed to you (by someone else, obvi) like six to nine months in the future. Just when you’ve forgotten you’d ever written it.

I’ve done this exercise a few times and, although I was at first a little eyeball-rolly about it, I did in fact get profoundly moved when I later received this letter to myself. The first time I did it, I had written myself a letter with my goals for the next six months. I picked some pretty outlandish things, figuring, why the hell not? I was astounded and quite pleased with myself when I got the letter in six months and realized that most of my goals had come true.

(As an aside, this is where I do in fact believe in the Law of Attraction or whatever the freak you want to call it. When you put stuff down in writing, you’re far more likely to follow through with it. It’s not about manifestation; it’s about holding yourself accountable, even on a sub-cognizant level.)

I have another idea for a workshop exercise:
Use random celebrity tweets as jumping-off-points for free writing. My favorite muse in this arena is actor Rainn Wilson, who plays Dwight on The Office. His tweets are hilariawesome. Example:

“What if I told you you only have 50 more years to live?”

And then there’s Neil Patrick Harris, formerly of Doogie Howser fame and now of the intellectually riveting How I Met Your Mother. He’s actually the one who coined the seminal term “hilariawesome.”  (FYI I am using the word “seminal” here in its fourth definition, not it’s first.)

And another great sitcom star, Mindy Kaling, also from The Office. She’s head writer, so has an edge when it comes to tweeting I suppose.

I’ve been staying in a lot. Can you tell? My imaginary best friends are all celebrities.