Spilling Over

My Journal

Starting with my journal entry June 8th.

The day I drove away from Rockywold Deephaven Camps.  The day I drove away with my heart full and overflowing from Squam Art Workshops with only GPS leading me after five days of following color to make my way through lush woods.

spilling over | squam art workshops

Sometimes experiences are too rich, too full to write about.  Squam is always like that for me.  But I think the rawness that I feel as I drive away catches it all. The words that are spilling out as I leave and force me to stop for a moment so I can catch each and every one of them. I scribble quickly...

"Friendships formed.  Stories told. Circles. Standing outside. Standing inside. Being the pen that draws the circle.  Drawing people in. Watching them dance. Then they crowd around you. They cry. Hug. Give thanks.  You let them.  You accept it all.  You reach out again to each one. So very grateful. For the pen. The circle. The ability to step in.  Step out. Feel."

And feel I did.

I was so moved by each of the women who took my class "Hour of Gold".

Below is a photo I took after the first class at dinner. I am using this photo because it has the most books in it to show you.  But I want to show you every book and introduce you to every woman.  They are each brave and exquisite.

spilling over | squam art workshops

They displayed their altered books in the main dining hall for all to see.  They were building creative muscle. Being brave. Being vulnerable. We all were. Some of these woman play with paint every day and for others, numbers and research are what is natural to them.  But here we discover we are instinctually creative when we play.  And we do not think too hard.

From my  journal as I pause on the way home:

"I look over the roster.  I see every face.  Every book.  Every risk. I see it all.  So grateful for the chance to make risking okay."

And this:

"I gave all I had and I do not feel depleted.  I feel full. That is how I know this is my path.  Teaching others to open up and be vulnerable.  To risk. To get it out. Put themselves on the pages. Just put it all out there. Spill it.  Then add a layer of gesso. Some paint. Glaze over a color.  Sand it over.  More glaze.  Sew.  Let the strings hang out.  Loose.  Wild. Free."

And you cannot do the above without it spilling over into other areas of your life.  

And that is where all the magic of Squam is for me.  What happens to you on the inside at SAW spills over into other parts of your days when you leave.

I am hoping the quiet I allowed myself each morning comes home with me. Spills over.

Each day started here with sleep still in my eyes at the very end of this dock. Usually in jammies. Setting an intention.

spilling over | squam art workshops

I so want to continue this practice.  Bring this bit of goodness home with me.  The quiet.  And the ability to pull it deep inside me and keep it still even when there is so much movement around me.

So I  am home and the rocks do not wear sweaters. Yet.

spilling over | squam art workshops

But I am so grateful to know of a place where rocks and signposts dressed in sweaters are a common sight.  And cabins sometimes wear skirts.  And links of colorful yarn lead the way through the woods.

The people that come here are my people.  And rocks wearing form fitting sweaters are my kind of rocks.

Ps. a big hug filled with gratitude to my High Pines cabinmates...Elizabeth, Kerry, Amy, Kaitlyn, Meghan and Mindy.  You all made silly easy.  And took tea to another level. It was so good to connect deeply and feel so understood. xoxooxox.

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