Energy pulses like an erratic heartbeat in a room filled with 15 creative folks. People who've spent a lifetime as performers struggle to be audience. People more comfortable in the aisle seat wilt at center stage.
The last five days have been exhilarating and exhausting. Much of what I learned was re-learning but necessary relearning. I don't yet know where to put some of the new stuff.
We did yoga every day: I did a handstand with the help and support of the fabulous young woman teaching the classes.
We walked to a sugaring operation and saw how maple syrup starts its journey to breakfast tables everywhere.
We wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
In four hours, a plane will carry me back to my own life, where tomato sandwiches are topped with bacon rather than smoked tempeh, where speaking one at a time is the norm, where women rarely fart in public. I'll be glad to be home and sorry not to be here.