Everywhere I go, it seems like Red is waiting for me, watching for me. It is a wonderful feeling, a powerful connection, he is my Waldo, my shadow, my constant companion. It seems we need to be together, I love seeing his sweet and patient face waiting for me, no matter how long it takes.
I saw leaves and dirt, Maria saw things sparkling, had a feeling, she found this crystal, she wants to put it on a necklace for me, I will be very happy to have it. It was awesome to think of how long these crystals had been lying in the ground, how long it took to make them, how much feeling they generated. I took my crystal and placed it in a dead leaf and it seemed to glow there.
They call it Crystal Hill, it is deep in the woods and for many years, people have found crystals in the ground. Maria and I took the dogs there this afternoon, and we each found treasure together, in our own way. Maria is a crystal hunter, she has the eye and the instincts to poke through the dirt and leaves and come up with jewels.
I love the way the sun was playing through the trees, I look for beautiful leaves on the path, I took some of the crystals we found and put them up against the sunlight. We were each together, yet off in our own spaces. We each remembered when obsessing on crystals or photographs would have greatly irritated the people around us, but we we aware of one another, yet each off on our own magical hunt, our creative connection.
We walked on Crystal Hill for an hour or so, poking around, until I saw the smile on Maria’s face and knew she had found what she was looking for, and she, looking at me, knew the same. A mystical place, a mystical walk. More photos on Facebook.
Lisa Dingle is a writer and student in my “Art Of The Blog” workshop at Hubbard Hall Arts Center in Cambridge, N.Y. She drives nearly four hours each way every Saturday to take the course, she is a gifted writer and committed to building a blog to advance her writing. Before each class, she gets on the floor and communes with Red, who seems to lovingly enter every space he enters.
Every Saturday morning, a small group of people gather at the Hubbard Hall Arts Center in Cambridge, N.Y. to take a class called “The Art Of The Blog.” It is a diverse and committed group, a retired Bishop who is exploring the meaning of retirement, a massage therapist who wants to explain the meaning and power of massage, a spiritual singer who wants to share her music, a nurse who wants to talk to other nurses about the unfulfilled promise of nursing, a blogger at a nature preserve, an undertaker exploring life and death and some writers who want to publish their work.
I am teaching the class, I want to share the many things I have learned while publishing bedlamfarm.com, I want to explain the growing connection between blogs and writing, blogs and books, the ways in which blogs are returning voices to individuals after they have been silenced and ignored by corporate media and publishing. Red comes with me, and some of us usually adjourn to the Round House Cafe afterwards for a sandwich and some blog talk. The money for the class fees goes to the Hubbard Hall Scholarship Fund, a good cause here.
In Hubbard Hall, I have found a good home for my writing and blog classes, it feels right to me. Two more classes to go, we never seem to have enough time. Each week, with the help of Rachel Barlow, we visit everybody’s blog, share ideas and offer feedback. How fortunate I am to have attracted so interesting and intelligent a group of students and future bloggers. The blog is coming into it’s own as a centerpiece of our culture, as my blog has become the centerpiece of mine.
