Tuesday, November 17, 2009

What else am I?

Last weekend a group of our frequent flyers gathered at lovely Mosswood Hollow, in the foothills of the Cascades, east of Seattle, for a weekend of deep adventure in the multiverse. Together, we grew a Healing Center in the true realm of the imagination that we can revisit, and to which we can guide others in need of fresh resources and imagery for wellness and healing. For the final homeplay assignment, I asked everyone in our circle to produce something by way of self-definition. This might be a poem or a song, an artwork or an exercise in movement or performance. It might be a simple statement defining the speaker as a person, with a life project.

Among all the creative responses that were shared in our last session, with the rain thrumming on the roof of the yurt, was this lovely poem by Savannah:

What else am I?

I am empty space and points of light
thirteen leaves left
thirteen leaves left
on the sycamore tree.

I am the child who is yet a child
growing clay fingers five yellow
clown's hands like sticky
kisses to the moon.

Sometimes I drink the sun
with the speed of darkness
of apples aged amber
in slow oak vessels.

I am eyes of garnet
in a fork tongued tangle
and a red fleece blanket
when the hailstorm hits.

I am the voice of tightropes
between churches and shipyards
I am the path of mountains
that witness but never meet.

I am an Eagle called freedom
circling fir trees plunging
and rain smiling ripples into
the depths of obsidian lake.

What else am I?
I am are thirteen leaves left
on the sycamore tree,
thirteen pages in the book of me.
- Savannah Caitlin, Mosswood Hollow, November 15, 2009


  1. I so loved the tapestry of voices that wove together during the creative sharing... in theatre, poetry, meditation, guided journeys, and tarot readings. Thirteen thank you's, for this growing family of dreamers, for sacred space under the pelting rain, boundless discovery, belly laughs around the fire, giving hearts, and the magic house on the hill. I suppose nothing quite beats the armpit of a dragon, but I can now safely say curling up with an imaginary hamster comes in a very close second :-).

  2. I also remember Savannah's introduction reminding us that 13 can be a way of expressing infinity, it makes this poem especially rich. Thank you for posting this and Lisa's great sonnet.

    What struck me as I was driving home is that one thing i especially love about our gatherings and your techniques is how there is no "healer" and "patient", there is no hierarchy in the work. Divested of these roles so common in daily life allows me to bring forth my wisest and deepest self on my own behalf. I always feel so at home in our wonderful community, thank you Robert!

  3. From my own magical house - over the pond and half way up a hill -

    Thanks for posting this Robert
    Thanks for your fabulous and touching poem Savannah.

    Sweet dreams

  4. Hi Aylee - I am remembering your own ringing affirmation in our gatheruing: "I step forward with my gifts so that my dreams will be megt."

    As you know, in the dream school it is our aim to help everyone to become the healer of their own life and the shaman of their own soul. A physician who has been in the dream school for over a decade has put this plaque on his wall: "My patients are my colleagues." I look forward to the day when many more in the medical and healthcare professions will recognize that part of their practice must be to empower - and learn from - those they seek to mend.

  5. It was such a gift to be there and to hear your beautiful words, Savanna, and now to read them. Robert, thank you for bringing us together again for more adventures. See you all at the healing center! (Hamsters will always make me smile now...)

  6. poetry of self...

    The Mother Bear Project

    Sinews of Strength
    Clear Waters
    Courageous Heart
    in the Everything is Changed

  7. Just lovely, Mama Bear. Hmmm, you are making me think that coming up with a line or three by way of self-definition might be a good way to enter every day. Let's see. Today

    I am walking in Baudelaire's
    forest of living symbols
    on my way to high adventure
    at the Hamlet of the Star
    and I'd better brush up my French

    Mais oui, right now I'm confirming details of two 3-day workshops I've been invited to lead in southern France in 2010, and the location really is the Hamlet of the Star (Hameau de l'Etoile).

  8. Cosmic practicality in the Hamlet of the Star.


  9. I was lucky enough to have joined the dreaming group at Mosswood last weekend in Washington state. I wrote these verses after pondering the choices we have in life.

    "My Life on Earth"

    Gentle smiles and great guffaws
    Jokes and happy accidents
    Celebrating human connections
    I choose to laugh.

    Leaping, dancing, twirling
    Sliding, gliding, flying
    Celebrating joy of movement
    I choose to play.

    Soft golden fur and puppy breath
    Weaving webs of words
    Celebrating hearts that beat as one
    I choose to love.

    - Caroline

  10. Thanks for sharing this joyful affirmation of life, Caroline. "I chose to laugh...I choose to play...I choose to love." It's hard to think of a better choice to make, any day of any year.

  11. How much fun to affirm a personal definition each day and to have dream friends that will confirm the affirmation.

  12. I love this idea of reinventing and affirming identity each morning. Let's see, today...

    I brave the flood to cross over
    to the heart of town
    because my bike needs
    a fresh can of

    (It's pouring rain and the battery on my electric bike died. Boo. But it'll run further and faster once I get it fixed. Yes!).

  13. Hi Savannah - Thanks for playing the game of everyday fresh affirmations. Let's see if I can offer a few spontaneous line from my Sunday in Manhattan:

    I rise from a dark night of pain
    to walk in the yellow park
    among happy dogs
    and to bathe in Vermeer's light
    splashing from a milk jug
    glowing on the pearly skin
    of a girl with a lute
    who wants to play a duet
    with the fiddler outside the window

    (I was in pain from a broken tooth overnight - off to the dentist on Monday - but revived in Central Park on a walk to visit the current Vermeer exhibition at the Met, which features "The Milkmaid", on loan from the Rijksmuseum, and includes his "Girl with a Lute.")

  14. Ouch... Nice to hear the masters of light took the edge off! If you would like to tele-borrow the restorative powers of a shark's tooth I have a spare (you already knew this... but I think shark with their multiple rows of teeth that move over like some kind of conveyor belt have by far the coolest way of dealing with tooth loss).

    And one more for fun (this could be its own thread!):

    I learn to play out of line
    racing horses in a
    crooked field crashing
    voices and still fitting
    inside the split.

    [Played Bartok today, negotiating the boundaries of dissonance with the accompanist].