Let’s do a project.
I recently realized that most of what I create and teach can be explained in 3 sentences.
1) Have you noticed that being a human is simultaneously beautifully amazing and SO HARD?
2) I figured out this practice/routine/game/process that makes things a little easier and more meaningful for me.
3) Want to try?
Skipping Stones: Back to School Edition
Sunday, September 12, 2021
7:00-9:30pm ET
On Zoom
$35
Skipping Stones is a playful-yet-serious practice I do once or twice a year that allows me to have a time-travel conversation with myself about what’s important to me and what I hope to do, be, and experience as I head into the future.
You’ve probably skipped stones before, looking along the shore for flat, smooth rocks, and side-arming them with a little English across a river or lake.
Each interval makes an impact, visual and auditory; each contact with the water leaves a concentric set of ripples; each set of ripples emanates and interweaves with the others as the stone travels further and further away from where you launched it, finally sinking out of sight.
In my version of Skipping Stones, instead of searching for rocks to toss, I’m exploring my heart and mind for what matters most to me, what I value, what I want to feel more of, what I dearly hope for.
And instead of throwing anything across a body of water, I write those hopes - sometimes crisply articulated, sometimes vaguely hinted at, in letters to myself, which I then fold up and put away to open at intervals in the future. One month. Three months. Six months. One year. Skip, skip, skip, skip.
It’s not exactly a to-do list or goal-setting. It’s more like making a wish or setting an intention. Imagination outweighs logic; a sense of possibility is prioritized over what’s strictly “realistic.” It’s not unlike like being pen pals with someone who wants and believes in the very best for you and will be looking for ways to make your dreams come true, even as you lose sight of just what those dreams are.
As a practice, it’s illuminating and powerful and surprising.
It’s orienting and organizing.
And this might be my favorite part of all: It’s fun.
Even though I don’t read my own words again until they cycle back to me at whatever intervals I’ve established (NO PEEKING!), the process of writing them seems to plant seeds in my subconscious that affect the way I see the world and possibilities in it as I move through the year.
I have often had the experience of opening one of my letters and reading something I had totally forgotten about writing, but that had “come true,” usually in ways I never could have predicted. Sometimes this experience just makes me smile to myself, but other times I get full-on chills, understanding how things I experienced as confusions, set-backs, or even failures in the recent past had actually been steps on a meandering, serpentine path toward something longed for in an at-first-unrecognized form.
In this workshop, I’ll guide you through a variety of exercises (playful-yet-serious!) that will help you remember and connect with what matters most to you. At the end of the workshop, you’ll write 4 short letters to yourself, send them to me (totally sealed and private), and I’ll mail them back to you at specific intervals.
Expect interaction (group limited to 15 people), movement, laughter, and useful insights that will (literally) last for the entire year.
You will need:
Definitely:
Paper and something to write with
Comfy clothes
A little bit of space to move in (you don’t need much, and all movement is optional/gentle)
Optional but highly recommended:
4 envelopes (letter/business-sized)
1 manilla envelope
7 stamps
a snack or 2
a yoga mat, rug, or blanket that lets you comfortably be on the floor
Zoom link will be emailed to you the day of the workshop.