As a child, I fell in love with listening. Whether I was in the car with my mother, begging her to retell the stories of her childhood, or sitting at the foot of her rocking chair as she read Little House in the Big Woods aloud; I longed for the rhythmic cadences and glimpses into the experiences, perspectives, and imaginings of others.
When I found my way into River Writing, I rediscovered my passion for listening. Poems, stories, and musings, generously shared, provided a reprieve from the busyness of life. It granted the indulgence of being still, while held in a circle of kindness and gratitude.
When it came to writing (the advertised side of this practice), I learned to lean into to the first sentence of Mary Oliver's poem, Wild Geese: "You do not have to be good." Telling the army of inner critics in my head to take a break was the hardest part. The Seven Agreements created a framework for practicing that under the guise of non-judgement, and including myself in a circle of kindness. This, along with other principles that inadvertently build the muscles of human decency and community, are two of the greatest accidental benefits of River Writing.
My hope and invitation is for you to join in this micro-rebellion against the over-stimulated, perfection-seeking, fast-paced, small-talk economy. Jump into a session of Two-Hours at the Table. I'd love to hear your stories, and I'll certainly share some of mine. (I almost want to double-dog dare you, but peer pressure isn't my style.)