Main Street Vegan Academy, part 1
Where do I even begin? It was that wonderful.Last week was thoroughly life changing. I made lovely new vegan friends and colleagues, learned a TON, gained confidence, and ate some of the most delicious food EVER. I've already noticed that I'm thinking more critically and I'm more sensitive to the issues. I want to speak the truth in a loving and compassionate way, and I feel empowered to do that now.How is this all going to play out in my life and work? More on that soon. I'll do a proper blog post later this week, but here are some highlights in the meantime.
Rain and Margo en route to Sustainable NYC and Vaute Couture. Here are some incredibly happy, healthy, gorgeous people!! Vegan is love, baby.
Thursday lunch, topped with Treeline cashew cheese. D-I-V-I-N-E. Dairy cheese is literally addictive--it contains casomorphin, an opiate (!)--and while this "cheese" is insanely tasty, you can eat all you want and stay healthy!
On Saturday morning we went on a supermarket tour, with Victoria's daughter Adair playing a new client who wants to eat healthier. Whether or not you're vegan (yet!), it's so, so important to read every label before you drop the item in question in your cart. Also very helpful to know which fruits and veggies contain which vitamins and minerals.
More fieldtripping. (We spent much more time in lectures, but apart from one food demonstration I didn't take photos.)
Seitan burrito at Jivamuktea. Thoroughly delicious.
A great photo of us, in every way! RT @Victoria_Moran: Main Street Vegan St. Vegan Academy class @JivamuktiNYC Cafe pic.twitter.com/KdP5SZXuaT-- Stephanie Gorchynski (@CompassionAteTO) June 24, 2013
Thursday night we heard Ingrid Newkirk, co-founder of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, speak at NYU, and she was electrifying. I was so inspired!(Main Street Vegan Academy.)
Vegan Academy Prelude
(The Heart is a Compass; Victoria Moran's Main Street Vegan Academy.)I'm in New York City this week for Main Street Vegan Academy, which began with a glorious dinner (chickpea and green bean curry, lemon broccoli, lovely fresh salad with shitake mushrooms, raw chocolate cake and non-dairy ice cream) and a very informative lecture by Dr. Robert Ostfeld of Montefiore Medical Center.But before that, I got to have lunch at Pure Food and Wine with my lovely agent and my new editor at St. Martin's! We shared a plate of guacamole and a celebratory bottle of white wine. Such a treat. I also found out that they sold the rights in Italy, so Bones & All will be translated into my ancestral tongue. My grandpa would be proud.
Portabella and hemp seed burger. Sprouted manna bread, caraway kraut, lapsang souchong tea smoked cashew cheese, house made mustard, pickled pink onions. The "cheese" was my favorite part. More filling than it looks!Plenty more MSVA-related posts coming up! I'm already having a ball, and I can't wait to share it all with you.
First night of @victoria_moran's Main Street #Vegan Academy = AMAZING. Amazing food, amazing presentation by @drostfeld. So jazzed!-- Camille DeAngelis (@PettyMagic) June 19, 2013
Ciudad Perdida, part 2
(Ciudad Perdida, part 1.)
It's going on a year and a half since our trip to Colombia. I don't know why it's taken me so long to post these photos! We're going to Uganda in August (it's the good old crew--Kate, Elliot, Jill and Spencer), so I figured I'd better finish this up before we leave.I've been thinking a lot about Colombia lately because I've made a new friend (yes, Sarah, THAT kind of friend--ha!) who just spent two weeks in Bogota, Medellin, and Cartagena. I've enjoyed looking through his photos from Bogota especially, since he saw completely different street art than Kate and I did. Makes me wonder if they regularly paint them over.
"Use your brain or the zombies will," haha! RT @nomadicotravel: #colombian #streetart twitter.com/NomadicoTravel...-- Camille DeAngelis (@PettyMagic) May 23, 2013
Anywho, here are the rest of our photos from the Ciudad Perdida trek. If I can give you one piece of advice, it's this: if you have to do this hike in four days (instead of the standard five--we were short on time), be prepared to be exhausted. We arrived at the ruins quite late in the day, and fumbled our way home in the dark. It was dangerous (although more guides came back for us with flashlights, bless them!), and I was spent, and I had a meltdown. It wasn't my finest moment by any stretch, but that's another great thing about traveling with your sister. No matter what goes down, you're still going to love each other at the end of it. She's stuck with me!
Don't get me wrong, though. I LOVED this part of our trip. I just wish we'd done it in five days so we could have enjoyed a more leisurely pace.
Spending the night in a hammock is way more comfortable than you might think. You just need to put a blanket under you so your bottom doesn't get cold!
We stood by a stream in the darkness, watching the frogs get frisky.
The hiking route takes you past several indigenous villages.
The upside of arriving so late in the day: we had the site all to ourselves! It was really misty up there, and we felt like explorers stumbling upon the ruins for the first time.
With our honorary sister, Alecia.
They were building this suspension bridge when we first passed, and it was finished by the time we were on our way back!I've still got photos from Cartagena, Bucaramanga, San Gil, and Villa de Leyva to share with you. Hopefully it won't take me another year and a half to post them!
Blissit be God
My new mantra: Blissit be God of al his gifts. (Spotted above a doorway in Advocates' Close, if I remember correctly.)I spent so much time blogging about Hawthornden that I neglected to share some of my other favorite moments in Scotland this time around. I managed to get to Glasgow for a meeting of the Scottish Society for Psychical Research (SSPR), holed up at the National Library, reconnected with my friend Kate Mathis (she of the gorgeous vintage sweaters!), and when Seanan came up from London we spent a very happy few days exploring Edinburgh together.
Walking up to Arthur's Seat. (Why is my shadow so enormous?)
The Hunterian Museum, Glasgow.
This doll found in a London slum BROKE. MY. HEART. Yes, it is made from a worn-out shoe. Seanan said, "At least she had that to play with." (At the Museum of Childhood in Edinburgh.)
Green no more. (I didn't get a good shot of all the litter.)
Spotted in a secondhand bookshop on the West Bow. HA.
We chose the easy path up Arthur's Seat (it's too easy, actually), then took our time coming down into Duddingston village for tea and lunch at the oldest pub in the city.
(To be honest, The Sheep Heid Inn isn't the top-notch gastropub it likes to think it is—my vegan option was lackluster—but it's still a cozy spot to relax after a windswept ramble.)
I don't have proper photos of it, but we also did the Mary King's Close tour, which was not nearly as cheesy as I was expecting. Packed with fascinating historical anecdotes, and I don't mind too much if half of them were made up. Now that's good entertainment.
Started rereading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell on the way home (found it for £2 in a charity shop, yay!), and it definitely holds up to a second read. Can't wait for the miniseries!
Hello, Boston!
Speaking of massive life changes...
...last week I moved to Boston! (My dear Amiee drove me up.) How random and awesome is that??
The courtyard at the Boston Public Library.(Not random at all. But very, very awesome.)
Exploring my new neighborhood.
(You know how I love the graveyards.)
This one is especially for Paré. (More information about Little Free Libraries here.)
Pine Manor College. (I almost feel like I'm back at Yaddo.)
I've been going to Back Bay Yoga and using my new juicer. I feel so healthy!
An afternoon ramble
As promised, a virtual walk on the Hawthornden demesne. (Gosh, I love that word. Don't get the opportunity to use it too often!)
This doorknocker is so old, it might fall off if you actually tried to use it!
"As we wend our way on the Hawthornden side of the bridge, always ascending, we gain some exquisite glimpses of Hawthornden Castle, perched on the edge of a steep cliff on our left. Advantage is taken of projecting rocks to get the best views possible of the river, flowing a hundred feet below us, and of the steep, well-wooded banks and rocks by which it is hemmed in, both above and below the castle. And there are some most charming spots among the grounds of Hawthornden. We feel that we are on classic ground. No wonder that the Poet Drummond loved it! No wonder that Sir Walter Scott went into ecstasies over it!"
When you come downhill towards the river there's a beautiful wood of birch trees, and the ground is carpeted with moss and these soft spiky green things. (Anyone know what they're called?)
We hope he loves her still.
(The castle is built on a little sandstone cliff, so when you are walking on the path beneath it there are plenty of rock formations to be seen.)
Drummond's Seat, overlooking woods and river. (I wonder if Drummond actually had it carved, or if the name is purely romantic.)
There is a very old tree downed in the path, the trunk cut so that there's still a narrow space to walk through. One day when it snowed I made the handprint on the right, and the next time I walked the loop I found someone had replied with the handprint on the left. (It took me like two weeks to remember to ask at the dinner table. It was Colin.)
One time I was sitting at the window up there (in the "summer library") and Melanie was walking down below, and we saw each other and waved. Another time I was walking and she was at her desk, and we waved. Little things like that gave me such pleasure.
The well-head outside the castle gate.
Back in the boot room (this is the view from the window), taking off coat and muddy footwear, shaking the cold out and looking forward to a nice hot cup of tea.
'This life I relish, and secure the next.'
Yeah, sorry, I fell off the map again. I was re-revising a novel (and now it's ready to go out!!!) More on that soon, hopefully.And now, without further ado: a proper Hawthornden post.
Hawthornden Castle was the home of the poet William Drummond (1585-1649). (You'd assume these lines are his, but they've actually been attributed to a poet called Young.) Drummond once invited Ben Jonson up for a visit, and he walked all the way from London! The poet laureate's visit is well documented. Apparently he wore out his welcome, but was happily oblivious to the fact that Drummond no longer considered him a friend. Yikes.Hawthornden is splendidly situated on a crag overlooking the River North Esk. The oldest part of the castle is a ruined tower that dates from the 15th century (there's now a small library housed in the ground floor); the greater part of the castle dates from the 17th century, when William Drummond's father acquired it. Thanks to Mrs. Heinz, it's been a writers' retreat since the early 1980s. Residencies last four weeks, and there are six writers there at a time. Hamish, the administrator, is effectively the host, making sure everything (from the ink cartridges in the printer to the happy vegan food on my plate) runs smoothly.
I can't possibly overstate what this residency meant to me. I needed the time, I needed the space, I needed the solitude and the glorious communion with nature, and I got all this "in spades" by the grace of Mrs. Heinz and the Hawthornden admissions panel. They gave me the chance to make my own magic.
The week before my residency began I also thanked William Drummond "in person." This portrait is on display at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh.Considering the following item on the application form, I hadn't expected to dine like a queen (and hey, I would have been totally cool with eating only boiled vegetables for dinner, for an opportunity like this!)... 
...so I was delighted to find that the household staff had stocked the fridge with soy mince crumbles, soy cheese and almond milk for my arrival. (I get teary just thinking about it. THEY ARE SO AWESOME.) Ally is a fantastic chef--he cooked amazing vegan versions of every dinner for me: "shepherd's pie," veggie risotto, DIVINE curry, and so on. I always got dessert, too--fresh fruit and lemon sorbet or mango or chocolate soy yogurt. So I ate like a queen after all.I found the castle cozy, not spooky at all, and my fellows were absolutely lovely. I'd said to myself as I was looking ahead to the residency, "everyone there WILL be nice and friendly," and they totally were. I even got to connect with Kirsty (@kirstylogan) ahead of time on Twitter.(Oh, and I was the only American, which was very fun.)
Here was my favorite spot to read and dream--the "summer library" off the drawing room, with a gorgeous view over the ravine. It's cold in there, so I brought in a blanket, hat and scarf and got cozy on the window seat. I loved to come down again around 4:30 and watch the dusk settle over the valley. The trees in that ravine are the most majestic living things I have ever seen (and I have seen sequoias!)
I would get up around 9 and come down for breakfast (porridge with brown sugar and almond or coconut milk, wheat bread with sunflower spread, coffee and orange juice). Tendai and Helena are early (or at least earlier) risers, but I pretty much always got to have breakfast with Melanie, Kirsty, and Colin. I could never manage to get myself up earlier so I could meditate first thing, so I'd come back up to my room and take my twenty minutes of quiet time before I began to work.Oh, and speaking of quiet time--there is absolutely no internet at the castle, so you'd pretty much have to walk to the nearest public library (or the Rosslyn Chapel cafe, which has WiFi) if you wanted to get online. I didn't use the internet for TWO WHOLE WEEKS and it was amazing how much I enjoyed the breather. So much less noise in my head, you know?I reread and I cut and I re-outlined. I wrote HARD and it was so, so satisfying. I didn't really give myself any days off, and yet I always felt totally rested.
Lunch arrived in a Fortnum & Mason basket: some sort of delicious vegetable soup (like pea and mint, lentil, or tomato basil), a peanut butter sandwich on seeded wheat bread, and carrot sticks with hummus. (That's just what I wanted every day--you can order pretty much whatever you want for a sandwich and fruit.) On extra-specially lucky days I got soy cheese cut into sticks! (Mary and Georgina, I love you!)
The 17th-century wellhead just outside the castle gate.I always went for an afternoon walk (saving my peanut butter sandwich to have with tea afterward), though the break time and length depended on how the work was going that day. Most of the time I just did the fifteen-minute loop below the castle because I was anxious to get back to my desk. I went on longer walks in the last two weeks, once I knew I'd be making my goal for the residency (i.e., finishing the draft).In the evenings before dinner, I practiced yoga either with Melanie in the drawing room or on my own in my bedroom. (I'm doing yoga every day now. I feel my arm muscles getting stronger, and I'm more flexible than ever.)We came down for dinner at 7pm, and could always expect a lively conversation along with the meal. (There's a separate dining room for Sundays, with a proper fire in the grate. There used to be open fires in every room, but the fire department nixed that practice.)After dessert Hamish would say, "Shall we go upstairs?" and we'd spend an hour or two in the drawing room chatting, playing a board game, or reading in companionable silence. Then, before bedtime, I might take a nice long soak in the enormous old bathtub on the writers' floor (which, interestingly, was built for servants' quarters in the 19th century).
Two of our Sundays at Hawthornden Kirsty, Melanie, and I (plus Colin the first Sunday) attended Sunday service at Rosslyn Chapel (for the architecture, history, and atmosphere, I assure you), then walked back to the castle (Hamish dropped us off). I have photos from the first time I visited the chapel back in February 2011 that I never got around to blogging, so I'll tell you more in a future post. I snapped these icicles as we were walking home.
Mint in the library conservatory.
Drummond was engaged to a young, beautiful and accomplished lady, daughter of Cunninghame of Barnes. The day was fixed for the wedding. She died on its very eve. Such a blow to a tender and loving heart must have been terrible in the extreme. We need not wonder that the disconsolate and bereaved bridegroom left Hawthornden for some years, and travelled to distant climes and amid other scenes...
I browsed through this book. I know you will find this difficult to believe, but it is not as interesting as it looks.According to Reverend Thompson, the well in the courtyard is more than fifty feet deep ('with about 4 ft. of water when I measured it on 31st March, 1892.') Two views, from above...
...and below. (Taken on our tour of the caves and dungeon.)
(An excerpt from Susanna MacIver's Cookery and Pastry, 1789. Once I was finished with my rewrite I got to read interesting old books as research for my NEW novel.)
In the last days of our residency I joked about locking myself in Colin's humongous wardrobe so I wouldn't have to leave. Kirsty made each of us flash fiction zines as a going-away gift. We passed many contented evenings in this drawing room! (Also, each night of our last week, one of us would read from our work in progress. That was such a treat.)
It feels so dramatic to write a shipwreck with rain staticking & wind screaming down the chimney. Hawthornden, how will I write without you?-- Kirsty Logan (@kirstylogan) January 31, 2013
There are so many things I'm leaving out--weird things, wonderful things, things I'm not able to put words around just yet. It really was a magical period in my life, and I'll always be grateful to everyone at Hawthornden for that gift.
I have even more photos I want to share with you, so there will be another post (a "virtual castle walk") after this one!Also, if you are interested in applying to Hawthornden (snail mail only, annual deadline June 30th), leave me a comment with your email address and I'll get back to you with the details. (You could phone or write, the contact details are online, but they do have an email address.)* * *Previous Hawthornden posts:
Flashwrite #10: Make Your Own Ecstasy
The most accurate (and inspiring) definition of the word "ecstasy"...
ecstasy = ek + stasis = 'standing outside oneself'
...snow and more snow, and a bit of reflection on our four-week residency at beautiful Hawthornden Castle with my new friend Tendai Huchu, author of The Hairdresser of Harare. I read a short excerpt from The Essential Donne (now out of print), edited by Amy Clampitt. Proper entry on my Hawthornden experience coming soon!* * *(All Flashwrite episodes here.)
"First I was born; and now this."
(That's my favorite entry in the Hawthornden leaving book.)
I love Mrs. Heinz's bookplate. (Mrs. Heinz is our benefactress.)
The castle courtyard.
My primary workspace.
Two of the four Sundays Kirsty, Melanie and I went to the Rosslyn Chapel and walked home in the snow.
See that gable to the left of the turret? That was my room.
The old Rosslyn Castle station platform.
Down in the dungeon. Hamish looks tempted to lock me in.More soon (including a new video on Monday!)
Productivity Forecast
Me: My goal for Hawthornden is 100 pages.Mumsy: Sounds do-able.Me: In a month of no internet? Definitely.Mumsy: Then why not make it 200?
GULP.
The free one always tastes the best.Happy New Year! I'm in Edinburgh until Sunday, when I head out to Hawthornden for my four-week residency. I can't tell you how relieved I am to be here, and how excited and grateful I feel to have this opportunity!Contrary to plan, I won't be working on the new novel, although I am still doing research for it at the National Library this week. Instead I'll be revising (and greatly expanding) the novel I "finished" back in August. I hadn't really expected anything to come of it, but it turns out the book is much better than I judged it. So I can't really feel disappointed at not being able to throw myself into the new book when I've gotten so much lovely praise and thorough suggestions on this one!Actually, I've heard it said that you get the most out of a residency when you're already waist-deep in a project, and that makes sense. I might end up having a more productive month revising than I would have scratching out the first few chapters of a brand-new book. So I'm taking it as a sign that the new novel needs more time to marinate.How does one squeeze every last drop of potential out of four weeks of perfect freedom? Here's a contradiction for you: I expect that my productivity level will be inversely proportional to the amount of energy I expend worrying over said productivity. When I spend the earliest minutes of the morning clearing my mind of whatever psychic gunk might be left over from the day before, I've made space for new ideas to take root. Oftentimes "doing nothing" is way more fruitful than a determination to meet unrealistic or irrelevant goals.In other words...no word counts!Things I want to try this time around:1. Writing longhand as much as possible. I've printed out the manuscript, and I want to rearrange it the old-fashioned way, with new scenes on looseleaf paper. (Yup. Definitely no word counting.)2. Surfacing out of sleep much more slowly, and scribbling down even the least coherent fragments of dreams before I stretch or meditate or take a drink of water. The more I recognize this as an intuitive process, the "easier" it seems to flow for me.3. This might sound contradictory given what I wrote above, but: sticking to a schedule. Mornings and early afternoons are for writing and revising, late afternoons for reading. I used to think I worked best late at night, but nowadays I don't think the time of day matters in the slightest. I just like the feeling of putting in a good day's writing before noon. I'm not sure where daily exercise will fit in, but I'll figure that out.No need for Mac Freedom this time--there's no internet access at Hawthornden, period.I'll be back in February. Wish me luck!p.s.--Comments are switched off on this and all other entries on the front page of the blog, simply because I can't keep up with the spam while I'm away. (Believe me, I've tried every plug-in and filter. Obviously Movable Type isn't working for me, so I'll be switching to Wordpress in the near future.)p.p.s.--This lovely Hawthornden recap from Vanessa Gebbie has me even MORE excited!
Letter to a Reluctant Traveler
When I was nineteen, I had the opportunity to write for a travel guide called Hanging Out in Ireland. It was going to be my job for the summer: to travel for five weeks around the southern half of the island, taking notes on every castle, restaurant, hostel and pub, then come home and write 100,000 words. I was elated, and I was terrified. My mother felt all the terror and none of the elation. She said, "Can't you get an office job?"
Out for a day in Donegal with my Cavan cousins on a solo trip to Ireland, 2001.
Dear Friend,When I was nineteen, I had the opportunity to write for a travel guide called Hanging Out in Ireland. It was going to be my job for the summer: to travel for five weeks around the southern half of the island, taking notes on every castle, restaurant, hostel and pub, then come home and write 100,000 words. I was elated, and I was terrified. My mother felt all the terror and none of the elation. She said, "Can't you get an office job?"If I had listened to my mother, my life would have taken an entirely different turn, so I am grateful I had the good sense not to. I breathed through the anxiety. I packed my passport and boarded the plane. I spent the first couple days bumbling around Counties Kildare and Wicklow feeling completely lost and lonely and incompetent. I remember my first night, in a hotel in Kildare town--what the hell was I even doing in Kildare town?--sleeping off my jet lag only to find myself wide awake in the middle of the night. I trembled with indignation when I overheard a night porter telling his friend that I was "some stupid feckin' American asking questions." I watched Angelina Jolie in a TV movie on a little television mounted to the ceiling. I'm pretty sure I cried myself to sleep.Eventually I found my footing. I started talking to people--nice people--I began to smile again, I took copious notes, I had lots and lots of adventures. I stood on clifftops, trod reverently through the ruins of monasteries, listened to exuberant traditional music sessions in crowded pubs, walked "home" at 2AM under a dome of stars and thanked God for my existence. That summer I had my first real taste of independence (and Guinness, and banoffee pie, and sticky toffee pudding). I grew into myself.I would love for you to have that sort of experience too, whether it's your first sleep-away camp or a year-long round-the-world backpacking trip. Wherever you are longing to go, you owe it to yourself to go there. If it scares you, that's how you know you HAVE to do it. Don't settle into routines, don't satisfy yourself with the friends you already have; spend too much time together and eventually you will find there is nothing left to say. It's so much nicer to go away--do lots of fun things on your own, think your own thoughts--then come home again and catch up properly. You will change, but hopefully they will love you all the more for it.Learn to enjoy moving through the world on your own. Solitude isn't an absence, it's a gift. You'll get used to walking into a restaurant and asking for a table for one; after the first couple times it won't feel so awkward. You are learning not to care what others think of you, and that they almost certainly aren't thinking or talking about you anyhow. Resist the impulse to grab a small pizza and a bottle of orange soda and pass the dinner hour on the floor of your hostel dormitory. If someone smiles at you, or makes a funny remark in passing, don't let it be in passing. Act on each and every hint of companionship, no matter how glancing. That girl assigned the upper bunk might be hoping to find a friend in you, too.Live your life like it's a Choose Your Own Adventure novel (where this analogy falls short is, you're the reader and the writer). No one else can live this life for you, and don't listen to anyone who thinks they know how you should live it. Trust your instincts and be willing to make a fool of yourself. You can't grow if you never make a mistake.So what do you mean, you don't have a passport? GET ON IT! And wherever you go, if you think of it, send me a postcard.love,Camille.
Scotland 2013
My aforementioned good news is that I've received a monthlong fellowship at Hawthornden, a writers' retreat in a castle outside Edinburgh. I'm leaving just after New Years. This is an amazing opportunity in and of itself (big thanks to Nova and Rachel for telling me about it in the first place, and to Ann and Sally for writing me such splendid recommendations!), but there's an additional layer of awesomeness to this gift, since my new novel is set in Edinburgh. I feel doubly (triply, quadruply...quadruply??) blessed. I want to wring the inspiration, the possibility out of every single moment, waking AND sleeping.
You know I love my research, so naturally I've been reading about the Scottish Enlightenment and the history of Edinburgh in general. (You'll get a glimpse inside my project "binder" when I post a Scrivener how-to as part of my Flashwrite series--that's coming up in January.) I thought I'd post some appreciation photos of an old book I found at the Strand last holiday season, George Scott-Moncrieff's Edinburgh, published in London in 1947. (I'm only "starting" it now, but this novel took up residence in my head at least two years ago.)
Mappy endpapers!
What better reason for writing a book than to honor your lost loved ones?
A map of the city, 1647.
"With love and good wishes for a Merry Christmas and a happy 1949."* * *Previous exploits in and around Edinburgh: Enchanted Scotland, part 4; My Kind of Church; New Lanark; Adventures in Glasgow.
Fall Squam, part 2
The table o' writing prompts, before my workshop began.(Fall Squam, part 1; recap on the official Squam blog.)This week I've been feeling wonky in a good way, if that makes sense. Marie Manuchehri's Squam workshop changed my life, but not at all in the way I expected it to. Looking back, I went into it Friday morning all blithe and giddy, like la la la, she will give me lots of pretty, shiny insights! (In case you would rather read on than follow Marie's link first, she's a psychic medium and energy healer in the Seattle area--and a tremendously kind and generous human being.)Silly grasshopper. Insights don't always make you feel good—at least not right away—and truly, it isn't much of an insight if it doesn't yank you out of the confines (emotional or otherwise) you've laid out for yourself. Sometimes you have to deal with the ugly stuff first, and the really amazing thing is that once you stop avoiding the ugly stuff and take a good hard look, it doesn't seem so ugly anymore. Fear makes everything look dark and scary.I know I'm being vague here, but you know I'm doing it on purpose, because this is private stuff. Let me just say this: you can always, always be more honest with yourself. Maybe it's time to be brave, or maybe you're not quite there yet, but either way you'll eventually get your hands dirty digging for truth. I made "fortune cards" for my Saturday morning writing workshop, putting them face down on the table, and Crissy (who was in Marie's workshop with me) chose my favorite Flannery O'Connor quote (thank you, Ann Napolitano): The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it. In other words: it is what it is, so you might as well face it.Thank you to everyone in that class—you were so patient with me, and helped me in the most surprising ways. And thanks most of all to Elizabeth, who I strongly suspect knew I needed to be there. Elizabeth is magical like that.
Okay, we're done with the woo woo stuff. I don't generally do a play-by-play of everything that happened at the retreat, but there are a few fun things I want to share. I also wanted to tell you that I really lucked out with my travel buddy: Alisha and I met on the Squam Community Board, and we drove up and back together, stopping at a hotel in Merrimack on Tuesday night. She is one of my new very favorite people, and I'm bummed we didn't pause for a photo together. (On the upside, I can see her pretty much any time we like!)
On Thursday I went into Kayte Terry's Color and Composition with zero expectations besides playing around with paper and fabric and having a lot of fun doing it--and I did. Kayte isn't into rules and theory, and that suited me really well; I made friends with my exacto knife, and experimented with echoes and negative space and painting on pages torn out of an old dictionary. I'll be posting a "part three" once I've had a chance to finish the projects I started in her class.
(That's a pic of me and Kayte that Julia took with her nifty neo-Polaroid camera.)
First game of Cards Against Humanity with fellow Squammies - so wrong it's right. #fb-- Kathleen Sweeney (@Sweeneybird) September 14, 2012
I went over to Long House after Thursday evening's entertainment (Maya Stein and Jonatha Brooke) to see if Kath (a.k.a. Sweeneybird) wanted to play some Scrabble. I found her with a bunch of people I didn't know yet playing Cards Against Humanity, and I joined in. It's like Apples to Apples, except completely perverted. (Kelly would have loved it.)
Some of the tamer cards in my hand.I used to be one of those people who is way too easily offended, so now I find myself getting even bigger laughs out of stuff like this to make up for all the time I wasted being prudish. This is no judgment on anyone who finds this game to be in poor taste; I totally see why you feel that way. But I had a LOT of fun.
Easterleigh, where I stayed this time.Friday night Amiee, Jen, Karen and I went for a 'swim' off this dock--I use quotes because we just stood in the water, chatted, and looked up at the stars. That was one of my favorite moments.
The writing prompt table, happily picked over.We only had an hour and fifteen minutes for the Saturday morning writing workshop, so I just gave everyone who showed up a little pep talk (make a beginning! any beginning! it doesn't matter if you're only talking about writing right now; I've been there!), then I showed them my collections of words and images and asked them to run with whichever they felt drawn to.
I also talked a little bit about the "mind mapping" technique and put my examples on display. You can read more about that in my Ideas, Part 2 post.
The lovely lady on the left chose my grandparents' wedding photo outtake (my grandfather's hand is hiding his face and my grandmother has this really odd expression on hers, which I've always found intriguing) and the shadow picture of me and Seanan in the Cotswolds. My photo and art postcard collection feels extremely personal, so I loved seeing which pictures the writers connected with on their own terms. (My friend and cabin-mate Julia, on the right, had just come from a Thai massage. I think we were all a little envious.)
Above and below are Amiee and Jen scribbling away--I feel so blessed they were in my cabin, and that we had plenty of opportunities to support and talk each other through the changes we're looking to make in our lives.
By the way, if you took the workshop on Saturday but forgot to add yourself to my email list (or if you weren't there, but are interested), leave me a comment and I'll forward you the email of fun inspirational links I sent out this morning.On Saturday afternoon, after Marie's book talk, I walked up Rattlesnake on my own. I needed to burn off some excess energy and sit in solitude for a little while. What a view, eh?
I had a mission at the art fair Saturday night--to buy $20 worth of raffle tickets for a Squammie who couldn't be there in person. Guess what? She won! (Third prize, a lovely vase from Gleena.) You know that if I'd bought those tickets for myself, I wouldn't have won--and I say that as in 'isn't that marvelous?,' not 'wishing I were luckier.' I already know I'm very, very lucky.
After the art fair I played Scrabble by the fire with Kath and Karen. I did not, however, get a photo with Karen. Next time!Alisha and I had a great deal to talk about and 'process' aloud on the seven-hour ride home, so much so that we never once stopped talking apart from the occasional navigational stuff.
Slightly disconcerting, no? (The truck cab was being towed.)Thank you to everyone this past week who smiled at me, listened to me, and let me listen. I'm so grateful!
Fall Squam, part 1
The ice house. (The iceboxes in the cabins use ice cut from the lake.)I know I say it every time, but this time it's extra-specially true: Squam changed my life, yet again--thanks to Marie Manuchehri (whose workshop I took on Friday) and a whole crew of wonderful friends, new and old.I also facilitated a really fun writing workshop. Eighteen people showed up and scribbled furiously for a good while. It was great.
No-stress story-telling with @pettymagic @squamlove instagr.am/p/Pmd0FPtCT7/-- Finch (Alexandra) (@LittlestFinch) September 15, 2012
For inspiration.
Exercise #1 in Color and Composition (still in process) with Kayte Terry.
The dock at Easterleigh, 7:30am.More soon.
Squam 2012, part 3
(Me, stitching. Photo by Jessica Marquez, who has a book coming out soon!)
I leave for Squam again in a little more than three weeks. I've heard the "vibe" at the September session is quite different than the gleeful fiber-fest that is June, which is just one of many reasons I'm looking forward to the experience. The September session has painting and mixed media classes, jewelry making, and some rather "woo woo" stuff as well. I must say, I'm very excited for the "woo woo."Most exciting of all, though, is the writing workshop I will be facilitating on Saturday morning. I'll tell you more about it afterward, but here's a peek at my prep:
The workshop is called "No-Stress Storytelling." I'll be building on some of the exercises we tried out in my library sessions to get everyone creatively limbered up. Of course, they'll be coming off two full days of art workshops, so some people will be ready to go, but others will need a bit more encouragement. The prospect of a blank page can be paralyzing, especially when you have a nasty little voice in your head telling you you're not a writer, who do you think you are, blah blah blah. The beginning is a tender spot, and I want to honor that. So: there's no pressure. No one else is going to read what you write, unless you choose to share it. You are a writer--a writer is someone who writes, not just someone who has published a book or gets regular bylines. And so forth.Squam is usually on the surface of my thoughts, no doubt because I've been working on my embroidery from Rebecca's class:
Bonnie put this photo of me (with Rebecca and Jeanne) on her blog, and it made me laugh. (See why below.)
Now check out my art club yearbook pictures:
(That's also me in the top left, holding my "Birth of Violet.")I like to think I've grown a great deal since Mr. Heusser took those photos in 1998/1999, but it's comforting to see that the best parts of me--that passion, that single-mindedness--those I get to keep forever.(Squam, part 1; Squam, part 2; Anne's post on Squam 2012.)
Ciudad Perdida, part 1
We said goodbye to Sierra in Bogota and flew to Santa Marta, on the Caribbean coast. The next day we set out on the Ciudad Perdida ("Lost City") trek, which we did in four days (it's usually done in five or six).
(Kate took at least half of the photos in these posts.)
Pausing for a banana break with our new friend Alecia.
More photos and the full story coming up next.
Squam 2012, part 2
(Squam, part 1. More Squam recaps here.)
When you come looking for sugar,your bag will be examinedto see how much it can hold;it will be filled accordingly.
--Rumi
Evenings at the Playhouse. Incandescent Elizabeth. Ahhhhhhhhh.
I made new friends, and grew to love my "old" ones even deeper. It is the loveliest feeling to know there's noplace else you'd rather be, and no one else you'd rather be with.
So in love with @pettymagic. One of the most beautiful people I know! http://t.co/3Nswl36b— Anne Weil (@flaxandtwine) June 10, 2012
Mumsy came along this year, and we had a great time. We took an embroidery class together, and she also took Helene's food photography class:
Savory scents wafted out of the Deephaven kitchen while we worked on our personal monograms in Jessica's embroidery class:
Jess's "E," Crystal's "J," Carol's "B," my "O," and Suzanne's "S." The "A" in the background is Jessica's sample. What a great gift idea! And Jessica is a fantastic teacher.
This shot is so Amy.
Bonnie had her sampler from Rebecca's class last year beautifully finished.
Renee's project inspired some serious embroidery envy! (There's a flamingo on her head!)As you can see, I took two embroidery classes, and they were both awesome. Jessica and Rebecca have very different styles, and I really admire them both.
I was a total enabler at the art fair ("should I?" / "BUY IT, BUY IT!") That gorgeous dress Anne's wearing is from Hodgepodge Farm. My goal for next year is to draft that pattern out of Cal's book and get it sewn! Also, the lovely sweater I have on is Bonnie's Pomegranate. I can't wait to knit it!(I will also be blogging soon about the dress I'm wearing in that photo. Yes, I made it!)
Squam 2012, part 1
Anne, Amy Lou, Jill and Jeanne, Saturday afternoon, Greenwood dock.
Evening light reflected by the surface of the lake.
Remember this?
A cicada shell (?) stuck to the porch screen.
Cragsmere.More soon.
Istanbul, Reprised
Vintage treasures from the Grand Bazaar (which was otherwise disappointing--way too many cheap souvenirs).
Topkapi.
Kate: Where's Camille?Elliot: Fart and she'll smell you.
They say the Hagia Sophia will take your breath away, and they're right.
The Blue Mosque.
As awe-inspiring as the Hagia Sofia is, I loved the Chora Church even more. I geeked out (being an art history major and all) over all the magnificent frescoes and mosaics.
Sweet cart! Kate couldn't be happier.Eating out in Istanbul was a bit hit or miss. We went to one restaurant in Sultanahmet (a touristy area near the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque) that served us meat dishes (which we had obviously not ordered), and when we asked for fries the waiter made an excuse: "The cook, he is not here." Elliot started eating his lunch and said, "Judging by the taste of this chicken, the cook was last here three or four days ago." Hah.We did have a nice last meal at a lovely rooftop restaurant, and as you can see, the street food was never a disappointment!
"Wonderful Kizkalesi"
"You were thinking rabbit, which was optimistic."We wanted more time at the beach before heading back to Istanbul, so we took Lonely Planet's recommendation on "wonderful Kizkalesi," on the Mediterranean coast.HAH.Oceanside architecture so ugly I couldn't even laugh at it. Tacky amusements. Crowds upon crowds of weirdly unfriendly Turkish tourists. (You know how nice we found the Turks everywhere else!) We might as well have been a million miles away from that perfect morning in Butterfly Valley.Anyway, we made the most of it, seeing everything remotely worthwhile in the area--like a really cool floor mosaic of the Three Graces in nearby Narlikuyu, and some nifty clifftop Roman reliefs:
"Even if I fell I probably wouldn't die," part two. (Can you see Elliot?) We scrambled down that rock-face to get to the Roman reliefs.We had the reliefs to ourselves, but there were plenty of people to contend with at the Caves of Heaven and Hell. On our descent into "hell" we found empty water bottles strewn along the path even though there were trash bins at regular intervals. (Leads one to wonder if there's a special circle reserved for jerks who don't respect the environment.) Elliot remarked, "If there is a heaven, who cleans it up?"
At the mouth of the cave is the ruin of a Byzantine church:
The ghost of a fresco in the apse, destroyed through the elements plus human idiocy.
We got up early one morning and swam out (200 meters) to Maiden's Castle, and wandered over the ramparts in our bare feet. There was plenty of graffiti on the walls, and the smell of urine in dark corners, but it was a glorious morning and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.Istanbul, reprised: the next and final installment!