Writing Alchemy
To take everyday ingredients and create magic out of them. That’s what happened this morning at City Park: writing alchemy.
The ordinary: beignets. Okay, maybe beignets aren’t so ordinary. Puffed dough, fried ’til airy inside and crispy on the out, smothered in confectioner’s sugar. (I’m not exaggerating; I swear there was three inches of sugar in the bottom of the bag.) Pair them with cafe au lait at the Cafe du Monde pavilion.
The ordinary: a coolish, busy Saturday morning with kids running and dogs barking and a man playing music on a sax. Us sitting at black wrought iron tables with heavy wrought iron chairs, nine all together. Who were we? That’s the magical part.
The Alchemy
Nine writers arrived from far and wide for one reason: to write together.
Those of us who have been Zooming since our Contemplative Writing workshop in August met this morning in person. Well, those from the area did—we have folks Zooming from all over the country. Zoom is good, but, from the moment we decided to keep meeting after the workshop, we thought we wanted to reconvene in person. Seeing each other face-to-face, it’s different, isn’t it? This morning was that day.
The Writing
Each movement of this Contemplative Writing Group feels like it’s unrolling on its own. No pushing, no pulling. Plenty of effort, most of it on the part of my technologically brilliant co-facilitator. She and I meet, we talk, and the gathering puts itself together. Pieces weave into a whole. A waiting whole. Because plans lie dormant until the people give them life.
From the cacophony of the Cafe du Monde pavilion, we moved to the sculpture garden. An unplanned study in contrasts. One busy noise, the other intentional silence. Large pieces of art hide in niches around corners or prance beneath swaying Spanish moss on centuries-old live oaks sprouting resurrection ferns. At both the pavilion and the sculpture garden, we wrote together then shared as we wished. We were together for three hours. It felt like thirty minutes.
What makes writing contemplative? We have devoted an entire tab in our Google docs to that question. But, in general, contemplative writing focuses on shifts in perspective, detaching from ourselves to better see, releasing control by opening to unplanned ways, drilling inward to move outward into the world, and discoursing with the higher power of the universe. The writing is feeding us. That, plus the beignets.
City Park at New Orleans, Sculpture Garden at City Park, writing alchemy
Joanne Corey
“…contemplative writing focuses on shifts in perspective, detaching from ourselves to better see, releasing control by opening to unplanned ways, drilling inward to move outward into the world, and discoursing with the higher power of the universe.” I love this description. How wonderful that the local contingent was able to meet in person!
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you! I always have to interrogate myself on why an exercise or prompt feels contemplative to me. Other folks use prompts that focus on content–the voice of your soul, or what the season wants to say to you. Our motto is, there is no right way or wrong way to do this.
Marie Bailey
Firstly, I just love this: “contemplative writing focuses on shifts in perspective, detaching from ourselves to better see, releasing control by opening to unplanned ways, drilling inward to move outward into the world, and discoursing with the higher power of the universe.” Since the beginning of this month, I’ve been writing daily (well, I did miss one day). I’ve been using a structure called Five Things. In general, one makes a list of five things and writes about each thing sequentially. But there are no hard-and-fast rules so, for example, one day I wrote five things about one thing (I wrote about a woman I met and the five things were descriptions of her). Other times I might write one thing and let my writing flow into another thing and so on. It’s become contemplative for me. Very stream-of-consciences in a self-discovery sort of way. I don’t always like what I discover 😉
Secondly, is the Cafe du Monde open????? We had heard it closed during the pandemic but weren’t sure if it had reopened. I’ve only been to New Orleans three times, but I have a lot of fond memories. It’s a special place.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Most important things first: Yes, Cafe du Monde is open. This is the one in City Park (used to be Morning Call). Most folks know the one on Jackson Square, which at the gathering, one of the group said was no longer open 24 hrs/day. That’s a huge change. But open.
Now, to writing. I l love that practice! I’d not heard of it before, but I can totally see where it becomes contemplative. And I like that you can play with it. Do it one way, do it another. Let your mind go where it will. I bet the Five Things often wind up intertwining, at least mine would. I hear myself saying all the time, “trust your brain, there’s a reason it picked the topic it did.” As you say, sometimes the discoveries are scratchy. And congratulations on doing the writing practice every day! So very nice.
And you must return to NOLA. The beignets are calling…
Donna
Writing and beignets? Magical! What better way to spend a day 🙂
Ellen Morris Prewitt
I know, right? There’s a reason it’s pronounced, “Ben-yay!”
Mary Margaret Hicks
How wonderfu, Ellen. Floridia is working to get the writing group back up and running. We met in Somerville about six weeks ago. We plan to meet Saturday, even though that is the day of the St. Jude Marathon and the part of the route is on North Parkway in front of my building. Wish we could meet sometime, in New Orleans at Cafe DuMonde. Sounds joyful.
ELLEN MORRIS PREWITT
What wonderful news, MM! How well I remember getting blocked in during the St. Jude Marathon! Once we were in Midtown and just stuck. I hope y’all meet, you make it, and it’s wonderful. Please tell me how it’s going. Maybe we could get together when next we are in Memphis?
Mary Margaret Hicks
I would love seeing you and Tom. Maybe a reunion of writing together. Miss y’all.
MM
Ellen Morris Prewitt
A reunion. <3