This week I am in the Blue Ridge Mountains at the University of North Carolina, Asheville for Image Journal’s Glen Workshop. The Glen is part workshop, part spiritual retreat, part cross-pollination, interdisciplinary, learning from each other and remembering that you are not the only one who spends your life looking at something small and seemingly insignificant and tries to turn it into art so that everyone else can see it too.
We’ve been listening to conversations on calligraphy as a spiritual practice, food as art and as metaphor, and the ecology of attention. I’ve been having conversations with people who just 15 minutes earlier were unknown to me, but now we speak of our spiritual longing, how to write the ethereal, or how to articulate goodness and beauty in a world which would rather pay attention to chaos and division.
Writer and former mentor, Lauren Winner spoke on the need for such “conversation partners”. People who are willing to spend time in attentive listening. People who bring a different perspective or expertise to the conversation.
I don’t have much of this at home in Seattle. This is true for many different reasons. The Glen practices creating a welcoming environment where people are generous about opposing points of view and create a culture of listening but let’s be honest too, we had more time. We didn’t have laundry or dishes or our days jobs or childcare pick up. And I wondered how I can create space in my regular life for such “conversation partners.” It is even a shared value anymore? Is it something others long and need too? And how do we foster that space—from moving from surface talk to deeper discussions together?
I hitched a ride to the Asheville airport early Saturday morning in hope of getting on an earlier flight. It is a matchbox sized airport which only 8 gates and I see a few acquaintances from the Glen whom I did not have a chance to talk with at length this week. Jen shares oranges with Dave which makes Katie and I think of our favorite poems about oranges. Instead of leaving it at that, Jen pulls out her phone to read Frank O’Hara’s “Why I’m not a Painter” then Dave reads my favorite orange poem, simply “Oranges” by Gary Soto. These words serve as a benediction as I grab my bag to catch my flight. I know I will take the spirit of this week and these people with me as I fly home. And if anyone in Seattle would like a nice long chat about everything, I’ve had some practice.
Shemaiah, I reveled in your short reflection on the Glen--what a soul-filling time. It was great to see Katie and Jen's faces!
My grandson is here with us for two years to go to school--maybe we can catch up for lunch or coffee once school starts for both our 'kids.'
Keep in touch, friend. I'd love to hear more.