What if we need all of us?
What if replenishing the lake isn’t a hero’s journey?
What if this story starts with the word we?
We call ourselves River Writers. Before learning of the lake’s peril, we had written together in circles shaped by community agreements for nearly a decade. This is the practice: we read poetry aloud to find a prompt and then write with pen and paper to say the truest thing we can say. Before beginning, we agree to be kind, to keep each other’s confidence, and to listen to each other with undivided attention. We agree to take care of ourselves and to share responsibility for creating a welcoming space. Everyone is invited. We practice non-judgement by forgoing apology, critique, and praise. It can be hard not to praise, but we choose to opt out temporarily in order to take respite from the culture of comparison. When a participant chooses to read, we respond simply by saying thank you.
These are choruses born of River
Writing, voices answering a call from
the lake. Each voice dared an imperfect
offering, an offering no else could make.
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