Driving along Rio Grande Boulevard Sunday morning, I see signs of spring everywhere. Trees are clouds of pink, white, lavender and yellow blossoms. Fields of dark brown earth have been plowed, turned over, prepared for seeding and growth. The air is soft, hinting of the 78-degree day yet to come. I’m pleased to have this time of forced slowness. The speed limits in both Los Ranchos de Albuquerque, near where I live, and Los Corrales, the equestrian community on the other side of the river where I’m going, are 15-30 miles per hour. The large cement mixer lumbering along the road in front of me reinforces the pace. I breathe in the day, admiring the trees, homes, fields, Sandia Mountains. “Thank you, mama,” I say aloud to Mother Earth, acknowledging her beauty.
I’m on my way to the third day of the first annual Spring Writers’ Retreat of the Albuquerque Writers Co-operative. I feel like I’ve been plowed, turned over, prepared for seeding and growth. I spent a restless night, filled with insecurities and critical self-assessments. Seven women writers gather with two instructors to focus on their craft. Their professions range from psychoanalyst to speech therapist, photographer to book editor and government technical writer. Several have taught at colleges or universities and have PhDs. I am a beginning writer. At one point, I sit there quietly as they have an extended conversation about why they don’t choose to work with beginning writers. I can only conclude they don’t consider me one. I decide I am at the writers’ retreat by “right of consciousness.” My intention has created my participation. I am meant to be there, to be teachable, to learn. It is a divine appointment.
Authors’ names and book titles salt and pepper the instruction and discussion. My reading list grows so long it could take a year to get through it. I feel out of my league even though I understand intellectually that changing from one field to another requires the adjustment of moving from being competent at what you do to being incompetent. Maybe this is why people don’t change careers more often. When I managed a real estate office in San Clemente, I saw people struggle with this all the time. Former engineers and school teachers who were extremely competent in their chosen fields became real estate agents who didn’t know what they were doing. They found themselves in a steep learning curve. The shift from being competent to incompetent was challenging for most.
Each writing retreat participant is scheduled for an individual consultation with one of the leaders about the manuscript she submitted two weeks before. The transformation in the room after the consultations is palpable. It grows quieter and quieter as each person turns within, examining the challenges of her own writing and how the teaching applies to it. I learn I’m not the only one who had a restless night and an early morning. When the re-vision of each writer’s work is read, it is apparent how much more powerful application of the teaching has made it. The teachers are thrilled what they taught has been learned. The students are excited by their successful application of the teaching. The river of life has carried me to the retreat to share this part of the journey with these serious, dedicated writers. I leave with an increased sense of awareness, skill and competence. And I am grateful.
