Below the Feet

Tonight I joined a group of women for a writing group. Many of them have been getting together for 10 years once a month to write and share together. I love the concept, and really appreciated their willingness to welcome me into the group.

I told the group leader that I'm working on a memoir, and the prompts she created for the evening were meant to provoke writing about our past, present or future.

It was super interesting to me how much more poetic most of the women were than I am. It didn't even occur to me to write a poem, or write something free form. I think in general free form is hard for me -- this is one of the reasons why practicing Ashtanga works so well for me -- it's always the same container. I change how I show up for it -- mentally, physically -- but I always know what comes next.

One of the women mentioned this song in her writing:

You were cold as the blood through your bones
And the light which led us from our chosen homes
Well I was lost

And now I sleep
Sleep the hours and that I can't weep
When all I knew was steeped in blackened holes
I was lost

Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn
Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn

And I was still
I was under your spell
When I was told by Jesus all was well
So all must be well

Just give me time
You know your desires and mine
So wrap my flesh in ivy and in twine
For I must be well

Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
Oh keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn
Oh keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn

And it felt fitting, especially the line about learning from where I  have been. My whole desire to write a memoir is based on me learning from where I've been, and sharing those lessons with others....