A poet sleeps in my guest room. She is an easy, delightful guest. Taller than I expected. Warm, freckled, smart, comfortable in her body, deep bright eyes that see more than most. You know the old question, who would you most like to have over for dinner? Last night was dream-come-truey in that regard. Two of my favorite writers, and one of my favorite minds (and a burlesque dancer to boot!), and me. My table sparkled with candlelight and conversation, as Maya wrote, real and relaxed and warm and joyous even, all of us engaged and eating together, like we'd been doing that for ages.
Tonight Maya Stein is giving a free writing workshop at my house. If you're in Spokane, whether you're a writer or not, you'd be nuts to miss this opportunity! The event info is on Facebook (please RSVP if you're coming) or email me.
On a not-necessarily-related note, this morning I read something that struck a chord:
"The barrage of demands and the voracious appetite of a culture that seeks to devour, rather than savor its sustenance undermine a quiet patient trust in God’s seasons of growth and harvest." –The Sanctuary Foundation for Prayer
In some ways I'm naturally a savorer, and in other ways I always want — those greedy, insatiable wants — more. Today I'm loosening my grip on the wants. Loosening my grip. Loosening.
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