Field's End Writers' Community

"At the field's end, in the corner missed by the mower
Where the turf drops off into a grass-hidden culvert,
Haunt of the cat-bird, nesting-place of the field-mouse...
One learned of the eternal..." - from "The Far Field," a poem by Theodore Roethke

You may recall reading here about a writer's conference I attended two years ago on Bainbridge Island at lovely IslandWood. The organization which hosted the conference is called Field's End, and local author David Guterson is one of its founders. I attended with a bit of fear and trembling; it felt presumptuous to call myself a "writer," just as it has always felt presumptuous to call myself an "artist," though I majored in art in college and have many years of experience in creative expression.

Criticism of the product - whatever I produced - is part of the classroom experience for an art major, and I internalized all of the many critiques I received, until I began to experience fear and blockage when faced with a blank canvas...so I stopped painting altogether. That's what I call an artistic injury.

There is a wonderful painter/teacher named Flora Bowley whose writing and approach to art (and living) is helping me to re-visit this injury, and to breathe healing energy toward that place. I hope - someday - to attend one of her workshops, and for now, am benefiting from reading and reflecting on her blog postings and newsletters.

Back to writing: after Katie died, writing became a lifeline for me, and I grabbed hold of it, writing freely and frequently. Writing has always felt like a natural outcome of my inclination to talk and to process my feelings verbally. Though I wrote regularly on several blogs (this one, and three on my sidebar: Katie's Comforters Guild, the Katie Gerstenberger Endowment and Hopeful Parents), I didn't think of myself as, nor dare to call myself, a "writer."

I wrote and published "Because of Katie," served as a speaker, was published in magazines, but still the inner critic slid over from the painter-side of my brain and whispered, "...But you SELF-published your book; you're not a REAL writer, yet!" So I was hesitant to even attend this workshop. Thanks to encouragement from warm-hearted friends who also wanted to attend, I went anyway - and loved it.

A post-writer's-workshop function

I've since put my name on the mailing list for Field's End newsletters and email, and due to the inspiration received at the conference, my friends and I formed our own writing group, the "Sh*tty First Draft Writing Group" (the name is a nod to Anne Lamott's advice to budding writers to get your fanny into a chair and make "sh*tty first drafts," saving the editing for later).

A few weeks ago, Field's End put out a call for volunteers, and though I couldn't attend the meeting to learn what they needed, I replied to the call and arranged to meet two of the members of the Core Team afterward. I thought I might be able to help with hospitality, registration and whatnot. It was fun to meet both Barbara and Kathleen; they are welcoming, encouraging, kind and open-minded. We shared a lively brainstorming session, and the result of that meeting is this: I was invited to join, and am now a member of, Field's End's Core Team! It's an exciting step for me.

Field's End recently sent out a questionnaire to its mailing list and received 400 responses; that is a sure sign of a vibrant writers' community! Their mission statement includes these words:

"Field's End serves the writers' community and nurtures the written word through lectures, workshops, and instruction in the art, craft, and profession of writing."

The core team seeks to encourage writers who have not yet started, and desire to do so, as well as those who are farther down the path of writing; those who have self-published as well as those who have a publisher. It's a welcoming organization, not a snobbish/exclusive one, and I sense that there will be no artistic injuries inflicted here; perhaps even repair and restoration may come to those who have been silenced by an inner (or an outer) critic. I can hardly wait to see what unfolds.

"See I Am Doing a New Thing," continued...

You can read all of the postings about my life-changing week at Rancho La Puerta  

here, here, here , here and here.

"See, I Am Doing a New Thing" - Part One

 “…See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” - Isaiah 43:19 NIV

I just returned from a trip - a journey is a more accurate description – to Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Mexico. It was a life-enhancing week of reflection, new activities, delicious organic food in healthy portions, gentle self-care, fellowship and learning. 

Read along if you want to hear what it’s like to step outside of your regular lifestyle, off of the merry-go-round, unplug from “the grid,” and do everything with an open mind and heart in a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

Before I embarked on this adventure – a couple of months ago – I was talking to Katie in my mind one night, before I went to sleep. I told her that I was doing the best that I can with what I have - doing my best to honor her life. I heard her reply as clearly as if she was in the room with me: “That’s great Mom, but what about your life? The rest of your life doesn’t have to be all about my life.”

Whoa. That stopped me in my tracks, and I’ve been pondering it ever since.

What could be next for me, if it isn’t about Katie? I reflected. I was me before she got sick, before her passing – even before she arrived in our lives. I was me before David’s arrival, before my marriage to Gregg. What about me – what is my own life about, now?

This trip came at the perfect time to open to that question. 

I have wanted to take a spa retreat (and a spiritual retreat) since our children were small. My mom and I have spent a day here and there at a spa, and have been away on church retreats, but we’ve never taken one like this. It seemed self-indulgent - something that other people did, but not me. I wanted to do it, but never would have treated myself to it. My mom’s generosity – and her need for a break, after a difficult summer – made it possible.

As the date of departure approached, I wondered how to open my heart to prepare for the experience. The words that dropped into my mind were: “See, I am doing a new thing…” I didn’t recall where in the Bible that phrase originated, but I knew that it was God speaking. That phrase became my mantra as I prepared, mentally and physically, for the trip. I resolved to look for Him everywhere, to intentionally allow God to do a “new thing” - whatever that meant - with me.

Gregg and I flew to Palm Springs and drove to my parents' condo. He and my dad had a week of activities planned; Mom and I got up early the next day and set out for San Diego. Five highways and 2 ½ hours later, I dropped off the rental car and we were met at the airport by the welcoming staff of the ranch. They took our bags, gave us each a bottle of water and a little bag of homemade granola, and invited us to board their van. 

After another couple of hours on the road (and a border crossing), we arrived at the gates of the ranch. We were each greeted with a fresh cup of lemonade and a cool towel as we disembarked the van. 

Following the porter who took our bags, my first sensation was of the delicious scent of herbs. The largest rosemary bushes I had ever seen, abloom with purple flowers, as well as laurel, lavender, sage and thyme, wafted their fragrance in the warm air, enlivening our senses with nature’s aromatherapy. As we followed the young man along the path to our casita, enjoying the perfume in the air, I began to see that this was going to be a trip greater than anything I had imagined.

Inspired to Give

1100 people gathered for the Ben Towne Foundation's BENefit 2013 (Image: Bryce Covey Photography)

Around here, autumn is the time when many charities host fundraisers. Gregg and I are always pleased to attend the Ben Towne Foundation's annual BENefit. We've had the privilege of being an active part of this event from its inception, and watching it grow each year lifts my heart like no other "gala" can.

Though the thing that drew us together with the Townes is the worst thing that has ever happened to us, our friendship goes far beyond that loss. It includes our sense of humor, commitment to family, a lot of coincidences, shared tastes and sensibilities, fierceness, passion and joie de vivre. It is pure pleasure to be counted among their friends and supporters, and to do all that we can to share their message and raise awareness of it.

Jeff & Carin Towne with Dr. Michael Jensen (Image: Bryce Covey Photography)

Though there are always some moments during the program that make me cry, most of my emotions at the BENefit are joyful, because the Ben Towne Foundation is getting the job done - making my dreams of a cure for pediatric cancer come true, in this time and place. Through their efforts, the pace is accelerating here in Seattle under the leadership of Dr. Mike Jensen and Dr. Rebecca Gardner (two special favorites of mine), among others. The Katie Gerstenberger Endowment for cancer research supports their laboratory.

Reba & Mary-Jane with me

Joining us at our table were my parents, brother Jim and sister-in-law Caroline, and our friends Reba, Bill, Mary-Jane and Brian. Let me give you a few statistics about our table: 60% of us had our only daughter die from pediatric cancer. Every single person at our table (100%) had suffered the loss of someone close to them as a result of pediatric cancer. For 20% of our table, it was their ONLY child (100% of the children in that family). All of us want to see this disease wiped out, with as few side effects, as quickly as possible. And we were in the right place to help the researches accomplish that.

The news is good, my friends: the first patient in the clinical trial of T-Cell therapy continues to enjoy remission, gained after only 9 days of treatment, with side effects of flu-like symptoms during that time. The next patient is ready to enroll, and it looks as if the clinical trial will soon be expanded to include a much broader range of ages - open for more patients to be treated and cured in this new, non-toxic way!

Did you know that it can cost 10 times more to treat a child with traditional chemotherapy than with T-Cell therapy - and surgery costs even more? The bill for Katie's care was in the neighborhood of a million dollars, for which we were (thank God) covered by medical insurance - but there are many whose finances are completely wiped out by such treatment, and without the promise of a cure!

Think of it this way: you could spend $350,000 for a patient to endure chemo, which can cause secondary cancers, organ damage, susceptibility to infections and reproductive problems - or $30,000 for a patient to have T-Cell therapy, with no long-term damage whatsoever, and continuing immune-system support for remission. Which would you choose for your child - or for yourself? What would you like to see become the "norm?"

Last week, I had the privilege and pleasure of attending an elegant "thank you" party for Seattle Children's Hospital's Circle of Care as the guest of one of our dear friends. The Circle of Care was conceived and founded by Scott and Laurie Oki, at Seattle Children's through their challenge grant of $1,000,000 in 1993; since that time, it has spread across the nation and has inspired $4.7 BILLION of giving to 25 children's hospitals in North America! This group is deeply appreciated by the hospital community. We enjoyed an inspiring evening of intimate conversations with top doctors and supporters who are equally committed to improving the health and quality of children's lives. I hope someday to be able to join the Circle of Care!

On this day - the very one on which Katie was admitted into the hospital in 2006 - people such as Katie, Carin and Jeff Towne, Dr. Jensen, the Okis and all of the members of the Circle of Care inspire me. Who (or what) inspires you to give?

A Magic Wand

"The day I acquired the habit of consciously pronouncing the words 'thank you,' I felt I had gained possession of a magic wand capable of transforming everything."  -Omraam Mikhael Aivanhov

The Sun Magazine | Dawn And Mary

The Sun Magazine | Dawn And Mary

My writing group gathered for dinner here the other night. The "Sh*tty First Draft Writing Group" has five members, each of whom has suffered the death of a child, each of whom has a strong character and a love for the written word. We meet to encourage one other to write - even what Ann Lamott calls "sh*tty first drafts" - or ideas that are still in our minds, or scrawls on scraps of paper...any writing, in any form, is welcome.

You might think this is a depressing group, but you would be mistaken in that assumption. Yes, someone occasionally cries, but there is far more laughter, lively discussion and deep listening. We share ideas, whatever we are working on and books we have read; we drink wine. We share our stories. We hold space for each other, talk about what it is really like to walk this earth without our child, in this new landscape which is continually surprising us. We remember our children, and we hold those memories together, with love.

One of our members, Robin (author of the blog Grief & Gratitude), is a wonderful resource - she has read all kinds of books and essays, and frequently shares them with us. I love that quality in her; she's a bit like a personal shopper for good writing on interesting topics. This week, she shared an essay by the writer Brian Doyle - an essay about two of the women who died in the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary (there is a link to article in The Sun Magazine at the top of this post).

The entire essay is brief and beautiful, but the last paragraph in particular struck a chord in me:

"The next time someone says the word hero to you, you say this: There once were two women. One was named Dawn, and the other was named Mary. They both had two daughters. They both loved to kneel down to care for small beings. They leapt from their chairs and ran right at the boy with the rifle, and if we ever forget their names, if we ever forget the wind in that hallway, if we ever forget what they did, if we ever forget that there is something in us beyond sense and reason that snarls at death and runs roaring at it to defend children, if we ever forget that all children are our children, then we are fools who have allowed memory to be murdered too, and what good are we then? What good are we then?"

As I prepare to attend the Ben Towne Foundation's annual BENefit this weekend, I look forward to gathering with parents, researchers, oncologists, hospital staff who treated Katie, family and friends who know firsthand that "there is something in us beyond sense and reason that snarls at death and runs roaring at it to defend children..."

I will be grateful to be in such company. We will hear stories of the progress made this year, progress in research and the treatment of cancer through T-Cell therapy at Seattle Children's Research Institute's Jensen Lab (the first patient is in remission!). I will join hands with others who are snarling at death - at cancer - and together, we will run roaring at it to defend our children - all children - because, in fact, they are all our children. 

If you'd like to learn more or find a way to get involved, follow the links to the Ben Towne Foundation and Jensen Lab.

Gratitude First

 "Happiness is not what makes us grateful. 
It is gratefulness that makes us happy."

- David Steindl-Rast, A Listening Heart