I see shoes. All these women, different ages, different sizes, so intimidating that I want to curl up, I look at their shoes and remember their just like me. Sneakers. Flip flops. Slip-ons. Comfy shoes, mostly. Me, I'm wearing boots. They're a little snug in the toes, and I wish the heels were more comfortable. But these women--this space, so "sacred" with its bouquet of flowers in the middle and candle and tissues reminding us YOU WILL CRY!--aren't so scary when I focus on the shoes. We all walked different paths to get here, and no one's judging my path, just as I'm not judging theirs.Humbling, though, to think about where all these shoes have been.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I See Shoes
Last night, I attended my first Women Writing for (a) Change class. I was characteristically nervous and tense, sitting in that circle, waiting for the seats to fill, until we were able to write--"fast write," it's called here, like the "free write" I used with my own students, an uncensored stream-of-consciousness. Here's mine:
I'm excited. There's an energy that comes from writing in a group; I had lost some of that ever since I stopped teaching. I don't think I realized how much I was drawing from people around me.