"The one thing I can say right now with enthusiasm and certainty is that if you're in the position to be considering attending Squam - either this fall or next year, but are on the fence for whatever reason - because you don't know anyone else going, because you're not sure it's worth the money, because you're not sure you'll gain anything from it - well, my strong and gentle words of advice are to hop right off that fence and GO. Magic happens there, I tell you...and in my experience at least, that magic can come in unexpected and beautiful ways."
That's what I said three years ago.
I'm going to tell you the rest of the story, one I never thought I'd write about here. At least not when it happened. But time has a funny way of making things lighter than they were in the moment, and retrospect sometimes brings about a clarity that softens what was once hard, and shapes it into something different altogether. What a blessing when that happens. And what a blessing it was that "Squam happened," for me. For it was there that a quiet, but life-changing moment happened that gave me room to breath into myself, and fills me with gratitude still.
{Squam photo by Andrea Jenkins}
I attended Squam Art Workshops with the intention and "job" of speaking to the crowd of attendees on Friday night. A lifetime of aversion to speaking in large groups and 'teaching" behind me, I had a newly forming role as author ahead of me. As a result, I had convinced myself that being comfortable with such speaking engagements, teaching opportunities, radio and television appearances (and on and on) were merely a personal challenge that I could work through. That practice would make this kind of thing easier for me, that it was something I should work to overcome.
Work, indeed, I did. I tried oh, so hard. I kept showing up, I meditated, I repeated mantras to myself, I talked (and talked and talked) about it all with friends. And I kept on trying - scheduling one thing after another and working my way through them all. But you know what? It never got easier. Not one little bit. Fear, dread, anxiety, illness, even...it only got worse.
It was within that context - with that struggle held close to my heart and those who knew me well - that I wandered my way over to Squam one day in June nearly three years ago now. With baby Harper on my chest, I first walked into a cafeteria there full of lovely people who I was later scheduled to speak to. I saw warm and friendly faces, some very special ones among them who somehow (I am certain) saw something behind my eyes and sent some very lovely, silent vibes my way (I felt them).
Walking back to my family, an awful sinking feeling began to settle in as I realized that I could not, would not speak that night as I had both personally and professional agreed and committed and prepared to do. It wasn't the old familiar feeling of anxiety, but something new - rather as if my body was speaking a final and definitive NO! The voice was loud and willing to let people down, not follow through on a commitment, in order to be heard. I can't quite describe the feeling in that moment - both of my options (stay or leave) felt impossible and full of dread.
Returning to my sweet family, shaking with nerves, I packed our bags, loaded up the car, and took a deep breath as I called Elizabeth (creator of Squam). Prepared for all manner of responses (except the one I was about to receive), I braced myself as I told her that I was unable to fulfill my commitment and we were going home. There was only a moment of silence on the other end before I heard her sparkly self spring to life, "Stay right there!" she said. Minutes later, two angels in the form of Elizabeth Duvivier and Swirly arrived at our doorstep. And this woman who I had never met before, who I had just professionally dropped a big and messy last-minute ball on...well, that crazy (awesome) lady gave me a hug.
We talked a lot that day. Without hesitation or pressure, she let me off the hook, so to speak, encouraging me to go home if that felt best. We ended up rearranging things a bit, changing up the plan, and moving forward with the events in a modified way. But more importantly that any of those details, is the bigger gift that she gave me. As we walked together in the woods later that afternoon, she said, "Oh! I see, I see! That's not who you are! This, right here, this is you!"
And that simple, obvious, perfect statement right there, was what we call a lightbulb moment.
The next day, still in a bit of a haze and fuzzy with all that was going on in my mind, I had my only other moments at Squam as I dropped in on a knitting session with Megan. The warmth of her gentle spirit, alongside the fire roaring in the fireplace, was a lovely blessing. I knit for a little bit, Harper crawled, knitting and fiber and babies and farming and life were talked about in simple and real ways...and I realized I was right where I belonged. This, I remember thinking, is who I am. The way I "teach," the way I "speak," in this world of ours ... it's in quiet ways.
{Squam photo by Emily Proudfoot}
I spent the rest of that summer reeling with delight, really, at the new revelation. My "No, thank you!" responses to similar opportunities carried with them an internal tickle - a giddy feeling of freedom. Because sometimes, saying NO is just as liberating and freeing as saying YES. Because in the space of letting go of the expectation I had of myself - one I'd carried around my entire life - of who I thought I should be, of what I thought I should do - I found the room, the freedom, and the deep comfort to just be myself. To embrace the quietness of me.
That afternoon with Elizabeth...those moments at Squam...were a quiet and pivotal change in my life. I am entirely certain that it happened there - and not at any of the similar events/moments earlier - because that was an environment in which it was safe to do so. A gathering of soul-seeking, creative, encouraging people put together by some very magical souls with open hearts themselves. The possibilities of what can happen when such a space is created are endless. Knit a sweater. Paint a picture. Make a friend. Find yourself. Change your life. All of the above and more - it's whatever you choose.
{Squam photo by Jen Gray}
I'm thrilled to be attending Squam once again in June this year. I will not be speaking to all of the attendees (at once), I will not be teaching a class...I will simply be there with miss Annabel on my back, knitting needles in my hand, camera on my shoulder, classes to attend, and the hope of real and meaningful connection with like-minded, open-hearted lovelies. That feels good and right and wonderful, and I greatly look forward to the days.
And with that personal tale told, what I started out to tell you today (ahem), is that the lovely ladies of Squam recently unveiled a new and beautiful website, and along with it, many new additions to the world that is Squam. Along with the information and details about the Retreats themselves (registration for Spring Session begins January 9th!), and announcements of new Retreats (they've gone global!), is the widening of the goodness of Squam for all to access. A new storefront, featuring just one special limited edition piece each month. The first piece for this new corner of Squam are handcrafted gleena porcelein cups and tumblers made by Aysa Palatova.
To celebrate all these changes and new beginnings, I'm so happy to be sharing with you a gift from Squam - one of Aysa's porcelein cups to one of YOU. Simply leave a comment in today's post for a chance to win the tumbler "Q is for quiet" (pictured above). I'll draw a name on Friday morning.
Can you believe they assigned me "quiet"? Oh, Squam.
~ ~ ~
Oh goodness, thank you ALL for your kindness! I wish I had 2000 cups to give away. The random number generator led me to...
ever since hearing about Squam a few years ago, I've kind of held it in my heart as a place out there, that ... someday... wouldn't it be lovely? so far off (both literally and figuratively) but a joy to just think about. your post only added to that far away dream, but also reassured me that my choice to not do those things I. am. not. isn't so terrible, just because it's not what the world expects me to do. quiet is so lovely... thank you!
Posted by: christyb