Circle Up, Circle Often

Full Moon of September: Narrative Prompt

Oh, you all! I’m writing to you from underneath a cottonwood tree at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico where 20 women have just said goodbye to one another at the end of a Story Mammal retreat. The glow is still on my skin, on their skin. The full moon is upon us and no one can ever argue that gathering in circles and creating art (of all forms) together isn’t one of The Big Answers to Life.

Oh, the mountains and the river. That's one of the retreat attendees basking.

As human mammals, we need chances to voice in the presences of listening bodies and hearts. The listeners heal too. It’s in-our-bones to gather that way and even more necessary for modern times. Many women at the retreat spoke to a deep loneliness. Most have communities, friends and families and fulfilling lives but the ache was palpable—for circling, for less flitting about or “independence,” for more mammalian togetherness, for more leaning on one another, and for actively looking to our elders. We’ve been (certainly those of us Western society) conditioned away from it, as if we are less than if we need help or haven’t accomplished it solely on our own or sought a brand new frontier. In my own life, I’m feeling an ache and stretch as my parents, who have lived next door to us for the last 10 years, sell their home and move. On the full moon this week, in fact. It’s wonderful and essential for them for so many reasons and it’s a loss of a physical and presence interdependence that felt old and very animal-wise. It took me years to adjust to it and even accept it. Was it okay to be so woven together? It became, even in the complex moments, one of the sweetest weavings of my life. When I arrive home to Montana, I already anticipate the thud of knowing they aren’t nearby anymore.

I’ve always prickled against the “You can be your own everything” directive by many schools of thought and practice. Sure, yes, no one can fix my personal problems for me and within me and it’s my responsibility to build the capacity to resource and befriend myself. I agree. Also, NO, I don’t want to be my own everything! It doesn’t even make sense biologically. I need others and want to show up for others. We are all social animals. We become by being reflected and reflecting. Do you have circle? Do you intentionally gather with a group in a meaningful way beyond socializing? Socializing, as we know, is critical; but a circle of intention is different. If you crave it, could you create it? Could your circle explore beyond chit-chat or conversation? Maybe you could make art together. Any form of art. Creating is naturally soothing to our nervous systems, especially in a group. It’s a double-win: life-force tending + social engagement.

Please let me know in the comments if you have a circle and what it has done for you and others, or if you are thinking about creating one. The circling of ideas is helpful for others when beginning a circle.

In that spirit, I’m hosting a FREE 1-hour class called… you guessed it: Modern Mammaling! It’s on October 5th. We’ll explore 3 Ways to Get Real-Deal Personal Traction. These have changed my life and I want to share them. I’ll send a recording out to those who sign up but can’t attend live. It’s a taste of my upcoming 6-week Story Mammal workshop.

Each season, I fold in a new component for Story Mammal. Last spring = four guest speakers on dance, dreams, character and pelvic bowl. This fall, we are going to take a deep dive into visual art (with Jen Bloomer of Radici Studios) as a pairing with our curriculum. I’m so excited about this. Registration isn’t open yet. We start October 10th. Stay tuned. You can read about it here. I continually hear that people have met “their people” in my workshops. At the retreat, I witnessed the profound weaving people have done together—begun in workshop and now extended into their lives.

Narrative Prompt

“Where do you come from?” It’s simple and I often start workshops with this question. Some people have written it dozens of times and it never goes stale. Prompts don’t go stale because you are always a different person in a different moment. Go wide angle on this one. It isn’t a literal question. What are the layers? Some people come from mayonnaise or red strappy heels or 8 generations of Alabama or a bowl of vitamins or The Loud People or orange groves or the 4th story or sales people or winter on the ocean. Give yourself six minutes. Let your pen flow. Trust your own brilliance. Don’t make it precious. You don’t even have to answer the question. Follow your tangents. If you get stuck, write, “Here I am stuck” and watch what happens. Allow the mess. Trust the mess. THEN, share it with someone. See what it feels like as the words move through your tissues and find air. Can you receive someone receiving you?

Here’s one place I come from: my same-age cousin Lauren.

The becoming full moon and cousin antics.

Okay! Go claim your art-maker self. It’s inherent to you. Just look around you. Make something with what you see. Then show it to someone.

We’ve had very spotty internet and cell service so I’m noticing how tiny these typed alphabet letters look after four full days of nothing but broad desert vistas and human faces. I wonder….

I want to leave you with my most beloved quote. I’m not particularly drawn to John Steinbeck as a writer or person but these words are as true and steady to me as a massive boulder sitting in a field:

“We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say and to feel, ‘Yes, that is the way it is, or at least that is the way I feel it.’ You’re not as alone as you thought.”

This newsletter is a place of ideas and conversation. The other part of my work is experiential: workshops and retreats and exchanging in ways that are both storytelling and somatic. If you are curious, come check out the FREE CLASS ON MODERN MAMMALING.

Go well into the fullness of the moon, your voice and your circles of people,