Dear Friend,
When you think about moments when you felt connected during the last week, what was happening? Where were you? Who were you with? Was it a connection to music, to landscape, to another human, an animal friend or an inner connection–a sense of knowing coming from your intuition?
Where I’ve landed: moments of connection are essential as air. We’re living in an outer world that feels increasingly disconnected, polarized, fractured in so many ways, that moments where we stand in the face of that and listen, build a relationship, create the energy of back and forth, is kind of radical act.
When I come to the blank page to write, it’s a practice in connection. It’s a way to build a relationship with my inner life and imagination. I invite the shadow part of myself to come out and meet my conscious mind. The more deeply I know myself, the more present and able I am to connect with others and with the landscape around me.
Thank you for being here, old friends and new folks who’ve just arrived. Our theme for May is connection and on the third week of the month, we read a poem to inspire creative connection.
Here’s a favorite of mine. I’ll read it to you at the arrow above.
Your Laughter by Pablo Neruda
Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the lance flower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you. My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life. My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens, and if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword. Next to the sea in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade, and in the spring, love, I want your laughter like the flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country. Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die.
Writing Practice: Set aside 5-7 minutes for this practice. Write in a journal or open a ‘Journey with The Season’ document where you can return each Sunday.
Prompt: I think this poem is about relationship as much as its about laughter. When we laugh together, it means we’ve found an unspoken connection.
The ‘you’ Neruda writes to might be a beloved—but it also could be the inner world of the poet.
Inspired by the poem, start a list of things you could not live without. Start with the phrase ‘Do not take away….’
Then, create a second list of things that you need to feel connection, whether’s laughter or something else that fosters a sense of relationship.
You could begin with, “I want your…”
Look over your lists and fill them out with images of things you love and feel connected to in your own landscape and life.
I’d love to read your expressions of connections. Comment below or use the ‘message’ feature to reach me.
Deepening Practice: Enter the week seeking connection wherever and whenever. Slow down a moment and speak to folks you meet during a transactional exchange, such as checking in at a doctor’s office or paying for groceries. When you walk through your neighborhood, whether it’s urban, rural, suburb, make connections with parts of the landscape. Stope to notice trees and flowers, touch rocks and stones. Journal about what it feels like to intentionally seek connection.
Wishing you a week full of intentional and spontaneous connection! With love, Gabrielle Ariella
PS: If you have a friend who might like to join our creative community, reach out & invite them!