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. Here’s 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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