Tales from Tuscany
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Tales from Tuscany

I can only give you a glimpse of our time in Tuscany, and that is how it is for all of us. The greatest things cannot be told. And the photos don’t convey the people, the laughter, or how they take such good care of you. Or the full moon rising on our first evening.

I am on the plane home now, and everything is fresh, and so I want to give you a picture. I was with my dear friends Birgit Nass, Mari Bohley and Massimo Polello. And Massimo’s husband, Domenico Quaranta joined us, with the hope and miracle of keeping us organized.

We worked with a couple poems for the week, which Birgit had designed and ready for screen printing. The first one, Prayer, by Galway Kinnell, became a favorite:

Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that.

Such a short poem that keeps working on you like a Zen koan. Perhaps he titled it “Prayer” because it’s a perfect aim and such a far reach, to pray for what happens. It’s a vision that can change the way we respond to our work, and to whatever crosses our path. This is my grail too, my knight-seeking thing . Whatever what is is is what I want. As William Stafford once said, everything is practice.

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Notes to Myself
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Notes to Myself

Your real duty is to go away from the community to find your bliss. — Joseph Campbell

What part of myself, I wonder, am I trying to find, to save? The need to retreat from media, to regain something I once knew, has the urgency of survival. On the second day of my retreat here at Saint Meinrad Archabbey, stillness begins to win over the part that wants to keep up with people and news. That wants the action of entertainment. It is so easy for me to forget that stillness is a way of knowing, of apprehending presence, of inhabiting the room of belonging. Time spreads out for paper, pens, paint, books and walking. The refreshment of beech trees rattling their leaves in the winter woods. Reading and writing. Sorting my tools.

There is something so restorative about the physicality of a place and the reckoning that comes with being fully embodied and uninterrupted. I remember how the saving mystery breaks through at odd and unforeseeable moments. There are many thoughts on the subject of places having memory, of places remembering what people forget. But the first thing I noticed on my arrival was something I have never seen here before: about 100 black vultures and a few dozen crows circling the sky above where I am staying. The black vultures have only recently entered this area in such great numbers, and are more aggressive than the native turkey vultures. They have an ominous reputation that calls to mind the birds of Mordor. The second thing I noticed was the green sprouts of crocus already up in the woods. The dark and the light, the evil and the good, both ever present.

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All 3 sessions will be recorded.

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“Turn me into song…”
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“Turn me into song…”

How do you refresh your relationship with what is sacred?

The ancient idea of having a gatekeeper, a guardian for a sacred place, returns at a time when most gates have become porous to continuous interruptions — we are all “on call.” But without the stability of a gatekeeper that protects the threshold as barrier, the lightning-fast change that we are all a part of overruns its bounds, and transformation becomes a superficial commodity.

The kind of work that emerges when everyone agrees to protecting uninterrupted time is unpredictable, powerful, and often a breakthrough for the maker. This is what keeps me teaching — the delight that comes from doing work that you don’t already know how to do, from doing things that may be “ugly” or surprising or unexpected by taking the risk to be unavailable to anyone except the muse, by dipping into the Unknown.

What follows are some examples from the students in my recent class in San Francisco, a magnificent group. The work speaks for itself.

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