Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST February 3rd 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we took a close look at a trio of paintings titled Chicanos Invade New York (triptych), 1981″ by Joey Terrill, posted below. 

Our prompt was: Write about a time you felt displaced.

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

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 Monday February 6th at 6pm EST, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.

Chicanos Invade New York (triptych), 1981″ by Joey Terrill

(left to right)
Making Tortillas in Soho
Reading the Local Paper
Searching for Burritos


12 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST February 3rd 2023

  1. Elizabeth

    Aren’t we all a little bit displaced these days?
    While the earth has shifted on its emotional axis,
    As a result of…
    A pandemic
    Political upheaval
    Climate change
    And war,
    Our psyches have been dislodged.
    It is important to remember-
    As long as they are not replaced,
    We can continue truckin’ on.


    • michele348

      Very beautifully said, Elizabeth! Somehow, even though most are attempting the return to normality, our previous concept of “normal” seems just beyond our reach… but we continue on the search for that comfort zone.


    • al3793

      Elizabeth, we are all displaced and all have emotional challenges consequent to dislodged psyches, as your speaker aptly identifies. Only one question in contrast to the many we heard today. I appreciate the encouragement offered. Andre


  2. About a time I felt displaced~~~

    Blaring music shoving its way into the city streets.
    People of various shades of black and brown running about, disregarding any concern for approaching car traffic… I was the intruder here.
    Children playing ball in the streets… simply enjoying being outside in the warm summer air.
    People shouting out 2nd story windows to those below on the sidewalks.
    A string of row homes, each with its own stoop where people sat and chatted with each other.
    Car doors slamming, screen doors slamming, shouts of people having a good time.
    A sense of aliveness is all about me.
    A community taking each day at a time.

    It was time to leave to return to the countryside, to my home. but I long for a return trip.
    Maybe the next time, my senses will take in more of the love and togetherness that I had witnessed on that warm summer day.


    • Elizabeth

      Michele—I think so much of your connection to nature, and the scene seems very contrary to the feeling of natural tranquility. I like the ending, which surprised me, and appreciated the desire to taking in more of a different environment.


    • al3793


      My emotions are continually mixed throughout this narrative with rising tensions (music shoving, disregard for traffic, intrusion) contrasted by an urge to relax into the scene (children playing, enjoying the outside, warm summer air). The tension alternates until the end anticipating the return to the countryside (my home) combines with a hope to return to the love and togetherness of the row home’s stoops. Nice. Andre

      Liked by 1 person

  3. al3793

    Write about a time you felt displaced.

    Blood spurted everywhere in the corner of Sammy’s barbershop
    as the six-year-old boy curious about all things
    pulled his finger away from the running fan.

    Sammy and Sal attended to the boy
    who visited the shop often during his father’s shifts
    anxious to hear stories of the old country
    and see the faces of the two American dreamers
    light up as they wove their yarns.
    The pressure bandage made of Kleenex soaked over with blood.

    A woman shortly appeared and took over
    anxious as she chided, “Couldn’t you keep your eye on him?”
    It was 50 years later that the boy realized for the first time
    that his rescuer that day way his mother.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Elizabeth

      Andre— you make me think that it’s never too late to appreciate someone… Even 50 years later. A lot of times we only appreciate someone and/or their deeds many years later. It would be nice if we were able to share gratitude immediately.


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