Last night my writer's group, The Scrambled Eggs, were 'featured readers' at a Salon. Next to a warm little fire, at a beautiful podium made from a Madrone branch, with an appreciative audience, we took turns, read old and new work, were interspersed with musicians, and topped the afternoon off (by evening!) with a delicious potluck dinner. It was fun and inspiring to witness one another, to appreciate our long-term relationships with one another and with our writing process. It is remarkable to see and know how we have grown as writers and artists.
Do you feel it? Can you tell that the shifting is happening? Can you feel the turn? Our favorite ride, Mother Earth, is doing it: we are not careening through space; we are on a planet, orbiting our star, guided through the Universe. This is a sacred ride. A blessed ride.