Tag Archives: yoga

Photo Diaries: Blending Photography and Prose

What is photojournalism?  Our workshop instructor June Finfer, Chicago documentary filmmaker/photographer/playwright explains it this way:  It is making a picture, capturing the connection, creating something out of what you are feeling as you go beyond the surface of what you see.

Our charge this week is to make photographs and then write about impressions that our photographs evoke.  The narrative accompanies the picture.  June asks us to consider each photo and what persona relationship we have to it.  Can a photo answer questions such as:  What do you expect here?  What is it about this experience that has changed you?    “The exercise becomes like a picture story, says June. “Photography creates possibilities for a common language when language is a barrier. We all go to the same places and each of us comes back with a different feeling, experience, impression.”

Photograph #1:  Making Tamales by Norma Hawthorne

Las mujeres, the women, sit together under the palapa, ancient hands and some younger and still soft, take a fistful of soft masa paste, smear it into the cups of  tender young green corn husks.  They are comadres, sit together under starlight.  A child clings to his mother’s apron hem. Together they sing an ancient hymn of womanhood under the stars by the campfire, preparing the meal, obscured by steam from the cooking pot.  For eternity, for now, for us.

Photograph #2:  Tlacolula Child in Yellow by Norma Hawthorne

Lost underfoot or forgotten?  Which among those legs and backs is the parent who loves her and leaves her to look out at something distant, beyond her grasp.  It is a feast day.  Their attention is on the priest who gives mass and absolution.  She looks toward a future unknown.  Were she mine, I would hold her and cherish her, this small, delicate child dressed in yellow.

Photography #3:  Woman with Bundle by Norma Hawthorne

A refreshment is what she asks for.  I ask for a photo.  Perhaps, she says with lips pursed and a glint in one eye.  I am not stealing her soul.  Her hat is a bundle of grain stored in a grain sack, stamped words too blurred to read even magnified.  Here she is: proud, defiant, strong, survivor beyond what is possible to endure.  Her hat sanctifies her, a blessing.  She is my gift of the day and I return the gift with pesos for a refresco.  A dios.

Photograph #4:  Señor Secundino at Las Cuevitas by Norma Hawthorne

Rugged, etched wood, rough-hewn, the texture of life — furrowed brow, creased cheek, gnarled hand, cracked leather strap, bristled mustache, mottled goatskin pulled taut over pine drum, rough pine, watch the splinters, tiny diamond pattern in finely woven straw hat, a brim offering a bit of shade.  But now it is night.  The shadow cast by an exposed light bulb defines him: solid, durable, tenacious.

Photograph #5:  Sunset at Las Cuevitas 2012 by Norma Hawthorne

Shadowy figures, silhouettes mark time until sun sets.  Beyond are mountains, magnificent purple, black.  Sun rays spray the clouds like a crown of glory.  In the dusk muffled voices utter a universal prayer for the ages:  peace, good health, shelter and warmth.  See the distant town.  The church steeple.  The call to forgiveness.  Feliz y prospero año nuevo. 

Oaxaca Women’s Creative Writing and Yoga Retreat is coming up March 2-9.  Consider joining us.

 

Vocal Yoga: Medicine Melodies, Ah Ohm Hoong Rahm Zah

A moment remembered from the Women’s Creative Writing and Yoga Retreat:

Our yoga guide Beth Miller gathers us around her in a circle.  We sit on chairs, backs tall.  At the head of the room is the traditional Zapotec altar complete with candlesticks and an incense burner ready for the next celebration.  Forefinger touches thumb to form a circle.  We rest arms on knees, close our eyes, take a deep breath and then another.  Inhaling yet again, deeper, each of us releases sound from within, from the center of our being.  From the third eye, to the throat, to the heart, to the belly, to the secret chakra of the woman’s womb, the place where we release the child from our bodies, whether real or imaginary.

Beth will be teaching this summer, July 5-11, in Teotitlan del Valle.

We sing clear, mouths open, full.  It does not matter if one or the other of us cannot carry a tune.  There is no shame in our voices as we expel the breath and accompanying sound.  It fills the room and the walls reverberate.  The sound is another sister and it envelops us.  Elena Gutierrez, in whose home we practice this vocal yoga, tells us we sound like a sacred ashram.  The melodies we chant become integral to the creative energy we develop as each day passes.  The sound gives us connection, power, peace, and allows us to lift our creative voices high.

With hands put together in the prayer of honoring each other, we bow and leave the room in silence.

This silence is sparkling clean.  Bird sounds are amplified.  The cup placed onto the tablecloth is an act of intention.  The table vibrates slightly to receive it.

Next is the taste of crunchy fresh tortillas soaking up spicy black bean paste topped with slivers of sweet white onion, translucent.  A sprinkle of chopped fresh cilantro and queso fresco like white paint splattered on a black canvas adorns the morsel.

My spoon cuts and I lift spoon to mouth, taste the crunch again, the corn ground by Magda’s able hands, formed in her palms, toasted on the comal in the courtyard, turned four times by fingers old enough to tell the story of eternal woman.

The black heat of bean paste smeared on tiny tortilla, the crunch of corn with cilantro punctuation are full in my mouth.  My tongue receives them like a host, hot flame of spice engulfs my mouth, a vessel holding the flavors of earth.

 

Food and Poetry: Writing About Eating, Ingredients and the Kitchen

After our cooking class with Reyna Mendoza Ruiz, Robin Greene, MFA, led us in a writing about food discussion.  She referred us to Poet Laureate Mark Strand’s poem, “Pot Roast.”  He uses words masterfully:  gaze, sit, spoon, “I bend, I raise my fork in praise.”  We come to a place where we are ‘eating poetry.’  To understand the interrelationship between food and poetry, we must write it out, memorize it, hear the sound repetitions, embed it in our bodies.  This is the way to eat poetry.

So I go back to the image of Reyna bending over the metate, grinding the roasted peppers into the paste that will become the base for the mole roja.  I take notes and write.  Then, I try my hand at the metate and write some more.

Reyna at the Metate

“My fingers are stained red from the grinding of the peppers on the metate, ancient instrument of women’s work.  The peppers become paste.  My wrists turn “la mano de metate” — the hand of the metate.  The stone in my hand grinds against the stone platform that sits on the ground. My back bends, I wipe brow sweat with the edge of my apron.  I have hardly just begun.  An electric machine would be easier I whisper under my breath.  Kneel, Reyna says.

Tapete (rug) at the metate

“My knees are on a hand-woven square rug that sits on the raw earth. My back is an arch, my hands outstretched gripping the edges of the stone cylinder that looks like a rolling pin without handles. Come closer to the metate, she coaches.  Use small, close strokes.  Add water to make the paste until it is smooth and supple, like the skin of a young woman I imagine. Faster, press against the stone, grind as fine as possible.  The stone is granite hewn from the mountainside from the labor of man.  Muy fina, back and forth, a reverence to the rhythm of work to fill bellies and remember when time began.”

We offer an optional cooking class with Reyna for those who wish during the women’s creative writing and yoga retreat.  It is a great way to stretch your creative cooking and writing skills.

Creative Writing Workshop in Oaxaca: Soft and Hard Sounds of Language

“Writers pay attention to the emotional quality of the sounds,” says our workshop leader Robin Greene, MFA. Think of the word “mother,” she continues and the comforting “mmmmm” sound.  The quality of the sounds are the tools to create an emotion.  The hard sounds of “t” and “k” convey the harshness of an emotion as we use language for expression.  Think of how “Don’t do that” sounds with all those “t’s.”  In writing, we also favor repetitions, humor, color, opposites.  She pulls out the example: “ecstatic trees the color of Easter” and “a time when women kept secrets and wore pearls.”

When an experience or an event is difficult to talk about and the writer goes back and forth between the concrete and the abstract, the image can do the work, Robin advises.  She continues that memory is interesting when you reference it with the present.  The present can provide incredible authority.  “I am sitting in the courtyard where it all began and ended” could be a jumping off phrase for going into the past and bringing it to the present to draw the reader in.

Writing needs to be physically grounded.  When writers get stuck, it may be because there is not enough of the personal in the writing.  We must challenge ourselves to push the emotional connection with the material on the page. Honesty, rawness, and expressed fear can give a piece substance, voice and complexity.

We found that the writing and yoga and retreat gave us the tools to break out from the constraints to breakthrough.  Our next workshop/retreat is set for December 28, 2011 to January 2, 2012.  Spend New Years with us in Oaxaca to celebrate and recommit to your own creativity.

Creative Writing: Wherever you go is where you are.

Creative writing is creative ignorance, according to Robin Greene, MFA.  Robin is the author of several books:  poetry, non-fiction and memoir, and fiction.  As she gathered us around the table for the women’s creative writing and yoga retreat, she talked about what it means to write for her.  Then, she opened it up for our discussion.

“You have to know a lot in order to write,” she says.  “Then, you have to forget what you know to write.”  This seems like a contradiction, but it is important not to let the discipline of writing — the thinking part — get in the way of the self-expression.

During our week together, eleven women talked, wrote, meditated, did yoga and vocal stretching, and expanded our voice.  Robin guided us in the writing life.  Beth Miller, our superb yoga instructor from Boulder, Colorado, gave us the inspirational tools to relax, focus, and gain introspection.

For twenty minutes before each writing session, we would meditate using Zen practices (count your breaths to the number ten) or Vipassana insight meditation.  This approach was more organic, physical.  We were present with our bodies, our thoughts were like clouds passing and sound became part of the background music. The practice cleared our minds and allowed us to open up to be more mindful.

“When you are more mindful, you are more creative and authentic,” says Robin.  “You have a place to return to in order to attend to the writing.”

During the early sessions, we took turns reading from our favorite authors and poets — passages that were meaningful to us.  To listen to the words, the lyrical stringing of thoughts, ideas, passions, reminded us of the beauty of language and affirmed our own capability to express it.  We read Rilke, Sylvia Plath, Bill Buford, Mary Oliver, Tonantzin, Helen Hunt Jackson, and William Carlos Williams.

Then we heard each others’ voices:  heart carried on white wings, my mother in the hospital room, the intermission of fruit, pomegranates, an invitation to the unknown, women who weep at funerals, let yourself be revised, dear Ben, my life is fragments, a dawn embroidered with birdsong, dark coffee beans and indigo threads, my job here is to lift the latch.

We soaked up the culture of the village and the immersion was a place for us to renew our commitment to ourselves and each other to write.

Our next Women’s Creative Writing and Yoga Retreat is scheduled for December 28, 2011 to January 2, 2012 with an optional two-day master class from January 2-4.