Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EDT September 1st 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close read the poem, “Hurricane” by Mary Oliver, posted below.

Our prompt for this session was: “Write about something that didn’t behave like you imagined.

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Tuesday September 7th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

“Hurricane” by Mary Oliver

It didn’t behave
like anything you had
ever imagined. The wind
tore at the trees, the rain
fell for days slant and hard.
The back of the hand
to everything. I watched
the trees bow and their leaves fall
and crawl back into the earth.
As though, that was that.
This was one hurricane
I lived through, the other one
was of a different sort, and
lasted longer. Then
I felt my own leaves giving up and
falling. The back of the hand to
everything. But listen now to what happened
to the actual trees;
toward the end of that summer they
pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.
It was the wrong season, yes,
but they couldn’t stop. They
looked like telephone poles and didn’t
care. And after the leaves came
blossoms. For some things
there are no wrong seasons.
Which is what I dream of for me.

Mary Oliver,  A Thousand Mornings.

4 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EDT September 1st 2021

  1. Patricia D.

    Back in the day, when academic job talks placed the candidate at the bottom of a large theater to present one’s work…
    there I was, ready to woo the room full of people when the slide projector ate my carefully sequenced ideas.
    Everyone, myself included, hemmed and hawed while the assistant scurried to fix the bloody machine.
    These days, it is the same but different, as we rely on computers, power point applications and the internet.
    Thus, I have learned how to scrap the machines and simply tell my story.


  2. About something that didn’t behave as I imagined~~~

    Life, a puzzle to say the least.
    Full of twists, turns, and occasional roadblocks.
    I assumed my path would be relatively smooth,
    with an occasional bump in the road,
    but what transpired was to be full of surprises.

    The bumps became numerous,
    mini mountains might be a better description.
    Back of the hand slaps to my spirit to cut me down a notch or two,
    each time pulling myself up by the bootstraps to move forward before being knocked down again.
    But each time I found new strength within me,
    that voice within me that said I could do it,
    that I wasn’t a quitter.

    Life lesson… don’t give up.
    You are braver than what you think and the bumps in the road, do in fact, make you stronger.
    And the season of spring and all it brings will return.
    Just be patient.


  3. At 10, already experiencing the ennui of life when left alone,I swallowed an Alka Seltzer whole, an experiment to see what would a fizzy tablet feel like in my stomach.

    Instead it lodged in my throat, almost suffocating me as I foamed at the mouth and esophagus, made worse by a drink of water in a attempt to wash it down.
    3 minutes of terror.

    A near death experience at age 10 that put an end to my ennui, temporarily.


  4. Helen Mia

    Write about something that didn’t behave as I imagined….

    The window is locked shut, wet moisture reflecting a mirage of colours like through the eye of a kaleidoscope.
    Tiny droplets of water settle one by one gently on top of one another.
    Precariously holding on to their little piece of glass, trying to save themselves as they fall.
    Her left hand and forearm scour the cold dampness, squashing her nose right up against it.
    Eyelashes so long that they are wet too.
    Us and them, what are they doing out there? The bag lady dressed in a long black gown, I can see her from here.
    A Tesco’s shopping trolly converted in to her own BMW, blown-up wine bags, designed to provide a comfortable place to lay her head.
    Her left forearm is so wet it is now cold and numb.
    She can not speak as she doesn’t know what to think anymore.


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