were they stunned?

The latest class of VerbTribe just ended. This week, I will feature on 37days the writing of VerbTribe members in this most recent class. These excerpts are in response to daily prompts the class provides, and I hope you will appreciate the voices of these writers. If you’re interested in becoming a VerbTribe member, go here for more information on the next class that begins January 3, 2013.   Were They Stunned? – Cindy Lorentson Cook How did I get here in the midst of these women While they pray Holding hands in a circle, Spontaneous, aloud, each contributing? It comes unforeseen, so sudden, no graceful way to exit Someone mentions an ailment, a sorrow, a hardship, And I am again in the prayer circle, expected to hold hands. I admire the simple beauty and dignity of their heart-sharing, Their sincere fervent prayers to heal, to console, one of us or our loved ones. My difficulty is not with their heartbeats, their feelings pulsing through my hands, their wishes, their hopes, their extending of care. My difficulty lies with the vehicle they choose The beginning:  God our Father, who watches over us… The closing:  We pray in Jesus’ name, the Light of the world, the one True way… I can’t work past those words, and so I am silent. Is my presence enough, although I do not participate? I wonder if they wonder why I say nothing that awkward moment when everyone has contributed Save me.  I remain silent. How do I convey my caring? Are my hugs and few words before & after enough? I do not want...

roses.

The latest class of VerbTribe just ended. This week, I will feature on 37days the writing of VerbTribe members in this most recent class. These excerpts are in response to daily prompts the class provides, and I hope you will appreciate the voices of these writers. If you’re interested in becoming a VerbTribe member, go here for more information on the next class that begins January 3, 2013. Roses -Lynne Adams Smell the roses. I can’t. Their only essence is the odour of betrayal. Quite something. Six dozen. Long-stemmed. Do you know how big that is? Could hardly fit through my door. Bright and glorious. Red. Pink. White with pink hearts. Splashes of colour to mask the lies. The sum of these velvety petals does not come near the total of my heart’s shattered pieces. The roses are beautiful though. And innocent. As I was. They don’t know they’re part of a hurtful dance. They’re just here. To remind me of his twisted attention. A carpet of roses could not make me forget he’d invited a ‘new love’ into his life, advised me to ‘stay away from them’ as it was all so ‘fragile and new’. Huh? I could not run far enough away in the other direction. And yes, there was a bit of rage on my part. But like a good girl, I kept it to myself. Confined it to endless pages of my journal and copious Kleenex. I am an adult who can function and carry on through her day no matter how much scotch-tape is on her heart. That’s what waterproof mascara is for. Time....

secret.

The latest class of VerbTribe just ended. This week, I will feature on 37days the writing of VerbTribe members in this most recent class. These excerpts are in response to daily prompts the class provides, and I hope you will appreciate the voices of these writers. If you’re interested in becoming a VerbTribe member, go here for more information on the next class that begins January 3, 2013. Secret -Amy Rawe As I was at 5 or 6, I still am at nearly 46. Tender-hearted at the core, but trying to wear tough. Sometimes it fits easily, but most of the time tough is too scratchy for my thin skin. I think about me as the little girl on Christmas morning, and how I held the new raggedy ann doll in front of myself, arms wrapped around tight, almost like a shield. I had a new red cowgirl costume on, with fringe on the skirt even. Yet I didn’t hold the doll on my hip or to the side so that the outfit — or myself – could be photographed fully. I still do this. I stand behind the camera. Behind the page. Behind my daughter. Behind the man, even when he was betraying me behind my back. I’m the one who blends in, behind the “seens.” I’m the one who swallows my voice and coaxes others to belt theirs out. I can still taste the fear I felt when I was that girl, running down the street from the German Shepherd that was chasing me, barking. I had the raggedy ann doll slung over my shoulder, holding tight...

breakthrough.

The latest class of VerbTribe just ended. This week, I will feature on 37days the writing of VerbTribe members in this most recent class. These excerpts are in response to daily prompts the class provides, and I hope you will appreciate the voices of these writers. If you’re interested in becoming a VerbTribe member, go here for more information on the next class that begins January 3, 2013.   Breakthrough -Sarah Salo Something is starting to line up. To fall into place. Thunk. When you put yourself out there, you do get it back. When fear is faced, or least ignored, there are openings. People make offerings. Doors are opened. Minds are expanded – even blown. New ways of seeing are revealed. Eye holes and ear holes are redesigned and realigned. Letting in ideas and possibilities not imagined before. Emotions are brought to the surface – heaving, creaking and birthing themselves – ready, finally, to be recognized and honored. An overwhelming sense of yes. Of Holy Shit, Yes! A sense of awakening – part BAM! – where there was once fog and darkness, now there is light and glorious, raucous noise. Part liquid, melty sweet stretching into the slowly growing warmth that is a new morning. MY morning. MY dawn. MY time. To rise and shine. Grow, go and glow. Up and at ’em. About friggin’ time. Soul sisters. Pack. Tribe. “Like minded-individuals” doesn’t begin to do it justice. Roots – tangled and deep. Connection to one another. Across miles. Across generations. Against all odds. We are all here together at this moment, this shining, unbelievable moment. Sharing. Vulnerable....

creative acts of suicide.

The latest class of VerbTribe just ended. This week, I will feature on 37days the writing of VerbTribe members in this most recent class. These excerpts are in response to daily prompts the class provides, and I hope you will appreciate the voices of these writers. If you’re interested in becoming a VerbTribe member, go here for more information on the next class that begins January 3, 2013.   Creative acts of suicide -Mary Welty-Dapkus Banana. That was bananas. Wow. I mean WOW. I am a student of life and I have had some mind-blowing – soul-tickling experiences and THIS  was one of them. I am reminded of the beauty of the Zen teachings.  It is in the ordinary that we experience the power of now – the power of POW. Two minutes looking at that banana – POW. Looking at that banana was surprisingly intense and kinda hippy-dippy and FUN and I felt a deep appreciation for the focused awareness. Peeling the banana – POW. It took a bit to get started, a pull, then a tug, the slight resistance of the peel to let go. It’s function or purpose as a peel, an outer shell, is to protect the part that is soft, edible, that nourishing, desired piece. How like the idea of writing, that there is only the quality of what is written, the flesh, than the energy of the peeling. I see now the power in simply peeling back the layers and exposing what is beneath.  And I thought as I peeled away the pieces, how brave is the peel, how thought-less is the peel...