INWARD Outside : all-day women's retreat

Retreat info here 

This October 3rd retreat was a wholesome, restful, inspiring day in the pavilion and grounds of the Tam O'Shanter Stark County Park for a bevy of terrific women from around the state.

After a terrific breakfast, we moved outside for some movement and then rested in a sound bath (omg, those chimes). We had a session on Intention setting and then a very gentle 3 mile walk, followed by my reading poems by Laura Weldon, Ann Fisher Wirth, Mary Oliver, Maggie Smith, and Wendell Barry. After another healthy tasty lunch, I led a writing workshop with three prompts based on the poems I had read earlier. Two participants shared their response, which you will find at the end of this post. Then we had free time to read, write, veg, whatever. And all along, all day, there were optional full-body massages, head massages, a bath-salt building station. Finally, there was a movement hour with a yoga instructor and a last meal.

The brain child and host for the day is MALLORY MCCREA, whom you can find here, along with info on the practitioners for the day. 

When this retreat is offered again, snap up a place for yourself. It really is a gift to your SELF.

Meanwhile, here are my three writing prompts and some responses:

 A tree- Write about one tree you saw today, or one where you live now, or one from your childhood (Based on Laura Weldon’s “Redwood Dharma” and Ann Fisher-Wirth’s “Catalpa")

Answer Mary Oliver’s question: what do you plan to do with your one wild & precious life, i.e., what is your longstanding plan, or what do you plan as of today? (Oliver’s “The Summer Day”)

  Write about someone who is no longer in your life, either because of death or a breakup or a misunderstanding.  “I keep wanting to phone you, ask something you would know” (Ann Fisher-Wirth )

The Winds Wings

by Sue B. Gahn

Connection to the winds wings

Breathing its calm

Its restlessness to always stay presently aware 

Of its messages of perseverance and release 

For the roots they do become uprooted

And we have choices 

As to how we perceive these changing winds

Challenging us to always look up

About My Brother
by Emily Orsich

Bury me beside the bones
of my mother’s first-born son.
Fold me into silence,
like the blanket you once wove—
threads now heavy with dust,
whispering stories of hands that shaped us.
His laughter still crawls
along the chambers of my skull
a swarm of bees humming through
the hive of my mind,
circling the hollows,
seeking a place to rest
that time has long abandoned.
Scatter the marbles.
Let them shatter the silence,
glass moons breaking loose
from forgotten constellations.
Beneath their rolling weight
you will find me,
pressed into the floorboards,
a splinter caught in the grain,
patiently waiting for your footsteps
to echo through the corridors.