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Boot
Camp for the Muse
by
Taryn
When Jan received
an email announcing the third annual Artist's Way Creativity Camp,
she immediately forwarded it on to me, knowing my affinity for the
book, The
Artist's Way. (I had even given it to her as a gift some time
before.) Excitedly, we went to the web site to find out more and
discovered that it was a weeklong retreat in Taos, NM, with meals
and accommodations included. Not only that, but it was also being
hosted by the author, Julia Cameron, whom we admire and who is at
least partially responsible for Craftygal.com. The only additional
costs for the trip were the flight and rental car. Since it was
already May, we knew it would take something like a miracle to get
us there for the last camp in August, but we both had this feeling
that we should take a chance and enroll, so we did. After all, part
of the Artist's Way philosophy is "leap and the net will appear."
Of course, that
maxim doesn't tell you when the net will appear, and at times
I doubted I'd be able to save the money I needed. But just when
I thought I'd better consider canceling my ticket and reservation,
I found out there was an additional project I could do at work for
some extra cash, and shortly thereafter I received another
unexpected bonus. (Isn't it just like God to make you sweat a little,
but come through in the end?) By the time we were driving to the
airport, I knew that nothing I had done had made the trip possible--it
was the grace of God alone; I just had to believe.
A week or so
after we reserved our spots, we got the brochure and lodging information
in the mail, and we were both excited and nervous. We knew so little
about the camp, and couldn't help wondering what type of people
would show up--would they all be New Age-y types, a group of retirees,
or a bunch of extreme Julia Cameron devotees with glazed over eyes?
We'd heard New Mexico was full of crazies--but then didn't it make
sense that they'd hold it there, among the other eccentrics and
misunderstoods? What if we were really attending a strange cult
gathering and had to participate in some mass wedding ceremony?
Fortunately, Jan's friends put our minds at ease and promised to
find and de-program us if we weren't back by the end of August.
To make things
even more mysterious, the email had included a sample itinerary
listing various activities from drumming to yoga, but the brochure
didn't give any more clues as to what we'd actually be doing. We
tried to glean as much as possible from the few curious-looking
pictures. One in particular that puzzled us was a photo of a pick-up
truck full of pillows. We spent the time leading up to the camp
conjecturing about what it could mean: Did we have to do trust exercises
and fall into the back of the truck? Were they kneeling pillows
for when The Leader came to speak? Inquiring minds wanted to know!
Finally, the
day came and we packed ourselves off. We nearly missed our first
flight due to the fact that shuttles from long-term parking seemed
to be non-existent in the morning hours, but our connecting flight
was easily found and we made it to Albuquerque by 3:00 PM, getting
more and more excited about our adventure as it became a reality.
Maybe it was that excitement that caused us to take the car rental
folks up on that upgrade to a convertible--or maybe it was my comment
to Jan that we could pretend we were Thelma & Louise, who could
say? At any rate, we were soon stylin' in our Chrysler Sebring with
the top down, later adding Jan's newly acquired Low
Rider music compilation to the experience. It was a gorgeous
three-hour ride through the desert, and just as we arrived in Taos,
a dark cloud was brewing and we could see a storm coming over the
mountains, lightning and all. Just as we got to our B&B, Inn
on the Rio, it started to pour.

Doing
our best Thelma & Louise
After settling
in, we found our way to the San
Geronimo Lodge in time for dinner and introductions. We had
dinner and shortly thereafter, James Nave, the director of the camp,
welcomed us and started off by saying he had something he didn't
want to tell us but that he'd say it anyway. Two days before, Julia
had taken ill and wasn't going to be able to make it, so he'd be
taking over the morning Artist's Way classes for her. We all glanced
at each other with the strangers version of commiseration,
but not wanting to cause a stir or seem disappointed, just smiled
and took the news in stride. Nave had taught with Julia for many
years and we were determined not to let this setback (no matter
how mysterious) affect the opportunities we had in the week ahead.
(Conspiracy theories came later, of course.) The schedule they handed
out seemed quite ambitious, but we were encouraged to gauge for
ourselves how much we could do and take time for ourselves when
necessary.
Every morning
we were to wake up, write our Morning Pages (three pages of longhand
writing), take a walk and eat breakfast, and then meet back at the
Lodge for the Artist's Way class with Nave, and then choose from
various activities offered throughout the day. Heres a brief
play-by-play of our week:
Monday
Met some new
folks during the morning clusters and discussed our personal Creative
Monsters. We were assigned some homework related to this topic as
well: write a fairy tale in which you punish or "off" a person who
was particularly poisonous to your creativity. (Talk about cathartic!)
Next, we explored Fabric Painting with Jo
Dean Tipton and discovered that the much-dreaded pillow truck
was just part of an exercise in painting on squares that would then
be made into pillows and returned to us at the end of the week.
We could draw or write anything that was meaningful to us to commemorate
our camp experience. (Phew--no trust falls for us!) That afternoon
we took part in a discussion on the Writing Process with Francesca
Marciano, screenwriter and author of Rules
of the Wild; got into some interesting debate about fiction
vs. non-fiction. Skipped evening Yoga for a dip in the pool back
at the B&B. Then met a dear fellow student while Flamenco dancers
entertained our co-campers and went downtown for some sugary treats
at the local Rocky Mountain Chocolate
Factory.

The
infamous pillows!
Tuesday
Tuesday morning
we shared our fairy tale assignments in clusters and attempted to
silence our inner critics with a stream-of-consciousness poetry
exercise. (Read Jan's results here!)
Then
we learned some basics of West African Drumming with Rosario
Carelli, and took Singing class with Mary
Setrakian (accompanied by Chip Prince) where we learned how
to breathe properly and utilize the "fourth wall" technique
for drawing from the emotions we feel as we sing. During our free
night, Jan and I grabbed dinner at a local pasta and pizza place
called Bravo, and then took a pilgrimage to the spiritual center
known as Wal-Mart to search for supplies for the upcoming doll-making
party and stock up on emergency Snickers bars (44 cents each!).
Wednesday
We could not
resist it anymore--we had to plug in. We promptly found our way
to the cybercafe we'd seen advertised on a billboard as we blew
into town and checked our email while scarfing down a quick breakfast.
After getting our fix, we learned some new rhythms by repeating
Rosario's drumming class, and I even attempted to play a fascinating
instrument, the berimbau,
which is used to accompany the Brazilian martial art known as Capoeira.
Then, in a Writing Practice class with Daniel Region, we drew stories
from our lives, practicing what Julia calls Cups and defines as
"a scoop of time, emotion, and memory ladled from your Narrative
Time Line." In the evening, we enjoyed a wonderful concert of Julia
Cameron-penned songs, performed outstandingly by Mary Setrakian
and Chip Prince. Then a bunch of us danced and twirled into the
night like we were the stars of Fame.
Thursday
Thursday was
unofficial Artist Date day for us--that means we spent time by ourselves
doing things that inspire us. So while Jan joined in the scheduled
found-object doll-making event, I took myself downtown and peeked
in all the galleries and bookstores. I chatted about art with some
of the directors and even stumbled upon a signed copy of a Natalie
Goldberg's book The
Essential Writer's Notebook--a happy find! Later, Jan took a
scenic drive with her camera and visited a bead store unlike any
other, with the fascinating owner whose hobby is verifying the facts
of newspaper articles. (When she arrived, he had been calling the
Metropolitan Museum of Art to confirm his suspicion that someone
had not worked there, as stated--and he was right!) Meanwhile, I
was facing an old creative demon and took a private voice lesson
with Mary. In the evening, Jan read part of her YA novel in progress
at the Open Mic, to much laughter (in the appropriate places of
course!) and applause.
Friday
On the last
morning, the Artist's Way class was the only thing on the schedule
and then it would be over. But everyone seemed to want to get the
most out of it, and the clusters were better than ever. Amazed that
there were people we still had yet to meet or talk to (with approximately
60 in attendance), we discussed our True North instincts and Top
Secret dreams while making even more new friends, and parted feeling
simultaneously on top of the world and saddened that we couldn't
all stay longer. But alas, there's no better goodbyes than those
that include frantic waving and an enthusiastic "Bye Craftygals!"
Looking back
at the whole crazy experience, the time and money we invested in
ourselves was more than worthwhile. Not only were our lives touched
by the stories of those we met, but we touched them with ours, too.
We were inspired by the ways we saw our fellow campers pushing themselves,
and enjoyed taking creative risks in an environment that felt so
safe. It made us all feel strong enough to take that spirit home
with us and look for more ways to expand our creativity. In fact,
Jan and I are even tempted to offer an Artist's Way course ourselves
in the near future. Who knows, right? Our job is just the take the
leap.
The creepy sisters rode that
elephant into town on
smooth
moonlight
Sharp-toed alligator shoes
Dry parchment skin - tho
their
spiritual ilk was slimy
and horrid
No druid's holiday this
They shed their chrome-plated
sweat on
the serene and unwise
Bellowing crimson philosophy
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