all there is

graffiti from Haight Street -- big-smiling sun!Good morning. Right?

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At least, when waking up in a panic at 4am, there are foghorns to keep us company. That’s a blessing.

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This morning, Sophie and I are doing some training. She’s learned (because she’s smart) that usually when she gets fed in her crate, it means that she’s going to get left there for awhile. Now she doesn’t want to eat in her crate, because she doesn’t want to get left. This means that she won’t go in even when I’m going to be sticking around (because how does she know the difference?). So we’re practicing — I put the food in the crate and leave the grate open, then leave the room. She’s not yet convinced.

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Last night I got to be with several of my teachers — Renee Garcia, Pat Schneider, Peggy Simmons, Joan Marie Wood, and Mary Tuchscherer. We watched Pat’s film about her workshops with women in Chicopee, MA — Tell me something I can’t forget — and then talked about the Amherst Writers and Artists method, and different ways in which writing can be used as a life-changing, liberatory, transformative practice for folks (for communities!) whose voices, whose stories, have been silenced. Again, I got to be at a seminary and talk about the power of erotic writing. What a gift, the whole night.

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Off to shower. Taking the pup to the dentist (what?) then heading to the day job.

Thinking about a prompt for today. What about the title of that film: Tell me something I can’t forget. Pat says it’s a line from a Tess Gallagher poem. Either just begin with that line, or go read the poem, and write as you’re inspired by those lines. Give yourself 10 minutes, 15. Tell me something I can’t forget.

I’m grateful for you today, for your practice, your patience, your words and your ears.

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