Tag: Joanna Parson

Blessing of the Animals

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Last Sunday I went to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine to celebrate the Feast Day of St. Francis. It was so peaceful even though there were so many animals in the sanctuary. The music of Paul Winter filled the immense Gothic cavern with the sounds of whales and wolves.

A restless set of boys and dogs in the row in front of us left before it was over so they missed the exotic animals as they paraded (processed) down the center aisle.

The procession of animals was lovely and mind-blowing. You can see a rat carried proudly by preteen girl. I loved the humility of the goats and sheep, made all majestic by a wreath of flowers around their necks! There is beauty in the humility of animals. There was a pig and my favorite, a kangaroo. On the way out, a yak!

I so dug the anomaly of animals in church – the sacredness of animals. That which is ordinary became extraordinary.

I am not really an animal-lover, but I appreciate their lack of subtext.

I left the cathedral, oddly, filled with reverence. There is a variety to life — a vastness of our ecosystems and our living relations that is truly awesome. I can only imagine there must be a creator when you see the variety in God’s creation (and in the crazy matrix of evolution).

Here are some pics I snapped at the service. Thanks to Joanna Parson for getting me to St. John the Divine this year, something I have always wanted to do and now have done! I recommend you experience this beauty too!

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Yes pets resemble their owners. A lot of dogs, cats, hamsters exist peaceably in the sanctuary.
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The Cathedral of St. John the Divine
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Restless kids with hamsters and dogs, waiting for the blessing of the pets.
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The communion line with dogs.
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llama
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pig in church
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Glorious turtle
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This parrot loves NY
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little pony in the sactuary
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white goose
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my favorite, a kangaroo!
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I have no idea what this animal is
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All this beauty in the largest Gothic cathedral in the U.S.

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred . . . let me sow love. Where there is injury . . . pardon. Where there is doubt . . . faith. Where there is despair . . . hope. Where there is darkness . . . light. Where there is sadness . . . joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek To be consoled . . . as to console, To be understood . . . as to understand; To be loved . . . as to love, For It is in giving . . . that we receive. It is in pardoning . . . that we are pardoned, It is in dying . . . that we are born to eternal life.” – St. Francis (c. 1181 – 1226)

In other words: Today, let me get out of my way. Let me find beauty in my ordinary world. Let me hear the music of nature. Let me be someone who goes with the flow. Let me not judge people harshly. Let me be kind and generous. Just for today.

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Artists’ and Writers’ Weekend

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I had an awesome weekend. I am writing this from the southbound Amtrak from Westport, NY to New York City. I am so high and grateful for the time to simply write and make art. I’m so happy about my (and Kelly Wallace’s) business, Boot Camp for Writers or Writers Boot Camp East and West, or whatever the hell we call it.

I’ve been offering writing workshops — sporadic, weekly, or weekend-long – since August ‘12. This weekend, May 16-19, the workshop was held at Skenewood, the Georgian manor house owned by my husband’s family on Lake Champlain, five hours north of New York City.

As in any adventure tale, this weekend had suspense, characters, details, and setting.

Suspense

Whether this weekend was going to go was a mystery. A week ago, after I came down from the high of being in the cast of Listen To Your Mother, a collective of New York city writers at Symphony Space, I wondered whether to offer the weekend retreat. The turn out was so small that I couldn’t foresee breaking even. But my passion for helping writers is bigger than my desire to make a buck (I know, I know. I have to work on this!).

My goal as a writing teacher is to make writers, skill writers up, and build their confidence.

So what if we were a smallish group? Fewer people meant fewer people to please and less dishes to do.

Characters

Every story needs some sympathetic characters. And my workshop crew — Rashida, Kathryn, Lena, Joanna —  was totally fantastic. They offered so much, so much artistry, integrity, skill.

We began on Thursday night with a candlit dinner in the dining room. On Friday we wrote in the morning, walked and made art in the afternoon. Late afternoon we hung out at Ted Cornell’s amazing art farm, populated by massive sculptures, oil paintings, Adirondack charm, intellect.

On Friday night, I invited a handful of local authors and folks to our evening salon. Several — Dan McCormick, Scott Gibbs, and Lindsay Pontius – joined us. The last two read some of their work. Brilliant. And we retreatants read some of our stuff or shared our book journals. Joanna Parson rocked us out with some guitar.

Details

On Friday and Saturday afternoons on the table in the children’s dining room, we spread images and words cut out from books, newspapers, or magazines. With Rashida Craddock’s and Kathryn Cramer’s guidance, we made collages and covers for our journals.

I got in the zone, getting lost in the details of visual art and print. Totally inspiring. I made a half dozen pages of my crazy art journal that I’ve been working on for a year.

Without diving too deeply into the waters of our writing, I can tell you we wrote about parents, grandparents, children, relationships, theater, and more. Some of our work was fiction and some non-fiction and some blurred the boundaries.

Setting

I slept so heavily over the weekend. Maybe it’s the fresh air or just the big house wrapping its arms around me.

I think the house likes it when a nice group settles in. Words fail me when I try to write about the feelings of being at Skenewood – because there are so many feelings, and so many smells and sounds.

Like the smell of the lilac bush.

Or the smell and feel of the earthy damp basement when I go barefooted for raspberry jam.

Or the crack of dry wood in the fireplace.

Thanks

The talent of my friends is not limited to words and music and art. Some of my friends are artisans with food. Thanks especially to Carolyn Ware of Ernie’s and David and Cynthia Johnston at DaCy Meadows Farm.

And Edward Cornell for the visit to the Art Farm. And Michelle Maron for the soothing, restorative morning yoga.

The thing about a literary journey is that the hero ends up in a different place than the one she set out for. But the journey makes her stronger or wiser. And that is the case with this weekend.

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Four of the five of us: Rashida, Lena, Joanna, Me
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A visit to Ted Cornell’s art farm
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We contemplated the beach.
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At the apple orchard near Kathryn’s house
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Making art journals in the children’s dining room
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with Ted on his art farm
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Adirondack Writing Weekend Recap

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Kathryn Cramer, one of the workshop leaders called our writing weekend, “an unqualified success.” And George Davis, another leader, made this awesome video:

As you can see, we wrote, we ate, we talked, we wrote, we did yoga, we walked, we ate, and we wrote a little more.

Writers working at the Adirondack weekend retreat.

On the last day of the weekend we started writing with a prompt that began, “I weathered the storm when I…”

I weathered the storm of hosting my first writing weekend. Turns out the hardest part was not the weekend, but getting home again.

It took me a couple of days to get back to New York City from the Adirondacks due to the storm known as Sandy. My Amtrak was cancelled and I relied on friends to give me lifts along the way. (I began writing this post yesterday from a comfy Holiday Inn, half-way home in Albany. I admit I enjoyed my enforced solitude, a menage a moi!)

During the storm, my fam and I stayed in constant digital contact. On the Upper West Side, we never lost electricity. But there is no replacement for real life hugging. And real life writing. And real life family.

Joanna Parson, Kathryn Cramer, Mary Beth Coudal, workshop leaders for the writing weekend

I’m totally grateful to the family and friends (and small businesses) who helped make the writing weekend happen. While holed up in the Albany hotel yesterday, I wrote a letter to the editor thanking everyone (I hope!) who had a part.

To the editor:

In this political season, there has been a lot of talk about which political party helps small businesses the most.

After my first foray as a small business owner hosting a writing weekend in Westport, New York, I believe that no party helps a small business as much as the party of other small businesses.

Thanks to the Westport, Wadhams and Essex small business communities who fed the bodies, minds and spirits of a dozen

George Davis led a workshop on storytelling in the digital age.

writers last weekend.

Special thanks for catering to Carolyn Ware at Ernie’s for lunches of sandwiches and chili; to David and Cynthia Johnston at DaCy Meadow Farm for a quiche brunch; to Janice Hainer at Everybody’s for the groceries; to Jim and Jayne Vance at Westport Hotel and Tavern for our cozy first night’s dinner together; and to Dogwood Bakery for the artisan pizza. We’re lucky to have such tasty options. The writers loved the local foods!

Beyond the nourishment of feeding our bodies, the weekend fed our spirits. We paused to breathe, thanks to Michelle Bartz Maron at Lake Champlain Yoga Arts @ Live Well. A morning stretch allowed us to stretch as writers throughout the day.

Kathryn Cramer explains it.

The writing workshop teachers, storytellers George Davis of Essex, Kathryn Cramer of Dragon Press Bookstore in Westport, Ted Cornell at Crooked Brook Studio in Westport and Joanna Parson of Letter Perfect in New York led the writers to hone the art and craft of writing stories from real life.

Thanks to artistic director Shami McCormick of the Depot Theatre and to teacher Shoshi Satloff for their support and to the entire Jones family for the setting of Skenewood, a magical place for a writing weekend.

To reach an audience of writers for the weekend, I must thank Nathalie Thill of the Adirondack Center for Writing in Saranac Lake and Valley News columnist Colin Wells for spreading the word.

This memoir writing weekend was my maiden voyage as a small business owner. I felt lucky to set sail and discover land in Westport, New York. Because of the work of small businesses, artists and teachers in Westport’s midst, the writers at Skenewood had a meaningful and fun time at our first Adirondack Memoir Retreat.

Sincerely,

Mary Beth Coudal

Writers talking about writing at the Adirondack Memoir Retreat. (l. to r., Joanna Parson, Alex Speredelozzi, George Davis, Beckie O’Neill)

My biggest thanks go to the noble writers who attended the weekend, willing to depart on a voyage in uncharted territories.

The art of memoir requires risk, as does the art of making a writing weekend happen.

My business coach, the awesome Mandy Gresh, was the first to call this writing weekend “my maiden voyage.” I like that.

We hiked on an Adirondack road.

Turns out the journey through the woods and into the writing weekend was not as fearful a journey as it could’ve been. (Though the weather in New York City was more treacherous.)

We’re tentatively planning another Adirondack weekend retreat for Artists and Writers: Talking about Setting from May 16 to 19, 2013.

Stay tuned to our website at Boot Camp For Writers for updates on writing workshops and weekends in Portland, OR and New York, NY.  Which reminds me of two last thank you’s.

The dock at Skenewood.

Thanks to our Boot Camp web developer Felicity Fields. And special thanks to my Boot Camp biz partner, Kelly Wallace.

When I came up with the idea for the weekend, Kelly said, “Oh, yes! Good idea!” It was!

My Salon

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I never asked what all these commenters thought. I never really asked what anyone thought except for the writers in Joanna’s and Charles’s classes, where I had workshopped the story.

And yes, I wanted to know what an editor thought.

I’d sent the story to the Salon editor late Wednesday, thanks to the query challenge from Robert Lillegard. (See the comments at: http://gettingmyessayspublished.wordpress.com/2011/08/30/the-westport-workshops/)

SH replied on Thursday over my lunch hour. I got her email while sitting in the hairdresser’s chair. She said my story “had potential.”

Nice! A new hair cut and a potential piece at the best literary and intellectual site online.

SH asked if I’d intended to publish under a pseudonym. No. She’d begun a line edit. She had legitimate questions about chronology and adding a “message moment.” That is, a moment to give the experience a meaning, an Aha! She was right.

I worked on the story; she worked on it. In a few hours, we were done. But commenters don’t take hours, months, years to write their comments. They dash them off.

I was surprised by the comments. At seven am, on Friday, I read the first seven. Then I stopped reading. I have very little experience with negative comments. The people who’ve commented on my blogs may spin out their own thoughts, but they don’t rip me.

I asked a couple of people what the comments said. My aunt (Ellen Wade Beals) emailed me; she said some of the comments were funny, some complimentary, and some snarky. One friend told me a lot of the commenters are commenting on each other’s comments. I didn’t need to go there. (And my sister emailed me with one direct message: don’t comment back!)

My only experience with negative comments was long ago on my article in the New York Times City section in the form of a letter to the editor. It was from an ASPCA representative quibbling with the way I’d represented their agency in my funny essay about the squirrel trapped in my airshaft. Fair enough.

At that time I took pride in the ASPCA’s letter to the editor. Aha! A letter to the editor meant my NYTimes story hit a nerve or was controversial. And now, I’m trying to take pride in the comments (that I’m not reading) on my Salon.com story. It’s a badge of courage to be criticized, commented on, and then survive (to blog about it.)

My cousin Susan Elster Jones sent me an amazing email last night. She said, One of my best professors once told me that the work isn’t really finished until you share it. And the more uncomfortable that feels-probably means the work is really strong. Thank you for sharing!

So, go ahead, comment away. Sure, I’m feeling defensive, sensitive, uncomfortable, but also proud, strong, happy. Uncomfortable.

I did it!

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I got up early on Sunday and ran (and walked) my first 5K. Joanna had invited me to join her and we’d run together (and walked together) before. I believe I’ve mentioned that I love working out with friends. Such a great, cheap way to be together, to talk, and to encourage one another.

We were a part of the http://www.rogosin.org/westbankrun/info.php (You can still sponsor me. I had to raise $100.)

The run benefited Rogosin, this kidney disease foundation. My friend Lois at work has been hospitalized with serious kidney problems after a world church meeting in Scotland. So I ran for Lois.

But honestly, it’s like the moral of last week’s episode of Glee. You say you’re helping someone, but you’re really helping yourself. The something in it for me was brunch at the end of the run. I love the West Bank Cafe, the run’s sponsor, on 42nd Street. After signing up, I realized I wouldn’t be able to stay for brunch. I’d have to book up to Charlotte’s soccer game in Central Park upon finishing.

It was a beautiful, clear day and the run was lovely, easy. (I will admit that we were slow). But I just liked getting out there, running along the West Side highway and the Hudson River. There were probably 50 of us.

My goal was simply to finish in less than one hour. I did it! I ran 5K in 41 minutes. That’s 3.1 miles, giving me a 13:17 pace. Next time, I can strive to beat it. I was thinking of Lois when I ran.

I have worked with Lois for a long time, since the early 90s. I think it’s fair to say both she and I can get impassioned, and therefore, occasionally, a little difficult. Yet I have always had a huge and deep-seated respect for Lois. Her intelligence, her wit, her kindness!

She has always fought the good fight and stood up for people who are marginalized — mainly, women and children. And maybe not just stood up for them, but run with them. Walked with them. Befriended them. Because they are us. And there’s something in it for us.

I really should sign up for another 5K, before I lose my mojo. And my goal is sometime, to run the whole way.

Lunch in Akumal with Joanna

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We sat in our bathing suits and cover ups in Akumal at La Luncheria, the kids’ favorite breakfast and lunch spot.

We talked about running. We agreed we would run a 5K in 2010.

I told Joanna how proud I was for her great review in the New York Times last month. She is having a great career.

We sat at the counter. My kids snuggled onto my wooden chair, crowding me, eating tortilla chips off my plate (my mother would hate that!)

That night, we met up again after dinner at the Snack Bar, the thatched roof outdoor dining part of Club Caribe. The kids and I sat at a long table with her mother and a million of her sister’s fiance’s family.

Joanna’s sister knows about blogging. She advised me to update my Google Profile, have a good “About” page, link more to others.

Joanna and I have been friends for more than ten years. We met at the Depot Theatre when she was in Radio Gals and I was teaching the Depot Apprentice Program. I had brought my students to the Depot to watch a real live play rehearsal. The kids fell in love with her in Radio Gals. What’s not to love? She is extremely smart, talented, funny. She can write, act, teach, sing, play instruments. She and I have had comedy gigs together – my highlight? Our comedy/improv show, Saturday Night Live, at the Princeton Public Library. She has been my writing coach. She hosts this great monthly, new work showcase, the Happy Hour Salon, one Friday night every month. http://joannaparson.com/