Despite the snow and cold Friday night (after all, this is only April in Canada), enough people showed up for the one day workshop to make it a lively event. It was a teaser, a taste of the menu to be served up in June. Jerry Granelli did some space and sound awareness exercises, I did some visual awareness exercises, and Alan Syliboy talked about what we had done last summer.
Alan brought in an enlarged photo from one of the evening bonfires we had. In the photo, Jerry was standing before the fire, offering to us his experience of his father, as the light was just ending for the day. Each of us had gathered sticks in the woods that became offerings to a person or persons important in our lives. In Alan’s words, healing was part of the ritual we were creating. Alan had drawn silver stars on the ground in his photo. The fire, the stars, and the evening sky became symbols for understanding how creativity grows from community.
I came away feeling quite good: the three of us had communicatd the enthusiasm we feel for the process of immediate, direct perception as the gateway to creativity. A nice, warm, fuzzy feeling. Then I went to a local store to pick up an order. The woman waiting on me was a bit hostile but that was nothing unusual for her. Nevertheless, I walked away feeling frustrated, angry and sad. I couldn’t understand how today had turned from exciting and fulfilling to sour and irritating. Then yesterday morning I realized it wasn’t the interaction with that woman, but the fact that for the past two months my dog, Lila, has been quite ill. She has had a massive skin infection demanding major attention, absorbing a lot of my energy and thoughts. She is getting better, but it has been a lot of work. Baths every other day, vet visits, tests, pills, salves and a big drain on my pocket. I had thought I would be fixing my driveway this spring. Instead I am fixing the dog. It’s not a difficult decision. But not a fun one.