“Wasn’t it strange that a poem, written in my vocabulary and as a result of my own thoughts or observations, could, when it was finished, manage to show me something I hadn’t already known? Sometimes, when I tried very hard to listen to what the poem I was writing was trying to tell me, I felt the way I imagined godly people felt when they were trying to discern God’s will. “Write this,” the poem would sometimes consent to say, and I’d revel in a joy to rival the saints’ that Poetry—this mysterious presence I talked about and professed belief in—might truly be real.”
― Tracy K. Smith, Ordinary Light: A memoir

A writing retreat by the sea is a powerful place to be. A rich and rewarding day of conversation, listening, teaching, laughing. Tonight was really special, to have Tracy K. Smith, two-time Poet Laureate, be our keynote. She actually didn’t read more than one poem; it was a Q&A format, so it was a conversation, really. My Play Lab is going swimmingly and I’m excited for the showcases I’ll produce in September of the monologues they are writing. Today I was very delighted to have another one of my Turkey travel photos accepted for publication—a cover of an issue. It’s a picture of the monastery I climbed to, and later we all climbed to, as we were anchored by the beach that led to the path up a hill overlooking the sea. I swam from the boat to the beach and barefoot climbed the hill. It’s a doorway to the chapel where we meditated later that morning when we all climbed again, together. This conference is now half the time it used to be for years; only three days of workshops, really. It was wonderful long, and it’s wonderful short. Acceptance of change.