Posts Tagged ‘ tribe

re-picturing SWIMMING

 

My big toe skims the surface of the pool and the water feels colder than I expect. Although I instinctually pull my foot back, I force myself into the water to swim. In one swift motion, I plunge into the pool and dip my head under the water. I remind myself to breathe and settle into the front crawl.

As my hand slices the surface of the water, I capture a brief glimpse of the faded “T” that is tattooed on my wrist. I smile (and cough as I breath in a little water) and recall the reactions of my friends to my now almost non-existent henna tattoo. One friend wondered if it stood for Tom Tiegs and my husband plays along saying that he likes to have his women branded. Another wondered whether it was real (real henna-yes, permanent-no) and more to the point “what is that all about.”

My answer is simple. The T stands for Tribe. And thanks to Rebecca Murphy, I, along with 7 other women shared this symbol from our most recent gathering. Yes, the T stands for Tribe, but determining what the Tribe represents is much more complicated.

Anxious from the uncomfortable space of silence, I start rambling on and fumbling over my words. The questions feel pointed, even though they are motivated by friendly interest and curiosity. I try to find the language, but am at a loss.

So, I start with the real, the tangible, the concrete. Facts that I can logically piece together and articulate to others.

What is the Tribe? Well, the people of my Tribe are beautiful, creative, brave, authentic women who were willing to symbolically take the plunge and go to a creativity retreat with a group of women they had never met. I am still so grateful that Celina, Dar, Emily, Elizabeth, Meghan, Melissa, Sophie, and Rebecca said “yes” to that initial gathering of very different, but like-minded spirits. We came as strangers, but left as a Tribe. We are writers, photographers, painters, mosaicists, researchers, videographers, wives, partners, mothers, striving to be more authentic and creative, following our bliss. The Tribe is a scattering of women from across North America, but we congregate in spirit through our blogs and our “secret” Facebook group and in person in a rugged beach house on the Oregon coast. We do everything from the ordinary to the extraordinary. We prepare and eat meals together, we walk and run by the ocean, we dance. We create vision boards, we paint rocks, we voice dreams and fears aloud for the first time. The Tribe is about creativity, it is about connection, it is about drinking wine, it is about authenticity, it is about Mic Jagger.

Although my heart has a deep understanding of the Tribe, it hasn’t yet found the language to speak this truth to my mind (much less give me the words to explain it to others). Perhaps it’s the lack of oxygen that comes from being a novice swimmer or a momentary lapse in my racing thoughts as I fully immerse myself in the flow required to coordinate my limbs into one fluid swimming motion, but my mind is just quiet enough to hear my heart whisper that swimming in the water is a lot like being a member of the Tribe.

Some of us dove. Others waded. Still others got their feet wet, but decided that it was not yet their time to swim. Each woman in the Tribe ultimately plunged into the unknown, trusting the universe, trusting one another, and trusting herself.

Just as the Tribe requires us to share with one another wholeheartedly, swimming requires you to be all in. The legs can’t take a breather, leaving the arms to flail forward. You must be willing to give your whole self (even those parts that we often hide in the dark because they don’t feel so pretty – our insecurities, our anger, our not-quite-fleshed-out ideas, our what-ifs, our pettiness) and accept other people’s whole selves in return.

After having a long-standing running injury, I appreciate how the water supports me unconditionally. It’s not easy. I have to show up each day. And, even when busyness, fear, and feelings of not enoughness make me want to run, I know that the water is waiting for me to come as I am.

The water also offers gentle resistance as I move forward on my path. Likewise, the Tribe supports me, but also calls me on my shit. What do you mean you don’t have time to breath? You can’t prioritize 5 minutes for yourself? Hell, let’s breath now. Doesn’t that feel better? Yet, even with the gentle resistance that comes from moving in the water, I don’t sink.

The Tribe is linked to one another in the same way that the water connects all life in the sea. Although sometimes nothing is said, the Tribe hurts when one of our members feels alone or can’t speak her truth. Like a rising tide, a success of a fellow Tribe sister also raises us all to a higher level.

This year, the Tribe plunged into the frigid waters of the Pacific Ocean. As with our first encounter, there were those who were instigators and others who were followers, but when it came down to it, there were 8 women throwing caution (and garments) to the wind as we raced toward the sea.

My big toe hits the surface of the ocean, quickly followed by the rest of my foot, calves, thighs and torso. Somehow, with these beautiful women surrounding me, the water feels warmer than I expected.

re-picturing TRIBAL WOMEN

My heart is overflowing with joy as I share with you the beautiful film the talented Melissa Dowler from The Long Haul Project and Long Haul Films created based on her footage from the inaugural meeting (yes, there is already another meeting in the works!) of The Tribe in Manzanita. As I look at these fleeting moments with the women in The Tribe, I am reminded that sometimes it is difficult to capture the magic that emerges when several women with very different perspectives come together to create, connect, and delight in play with a photograph. So, today, I’m sharing Melissa’s film. Thanks, Melissa! Happy Re-Picturing Women Wednesday!

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/25628317]

picturing TRIBAL VOICES

Manzanita

Many of you know that I traveled to the Oregon coast last weekend. For some, I was simply getting away. For others, I was headed to a creativity retreat. Still others believed I was gathering with friends. When I mentioned my trip to Manzanita, a coastal village two hours south of Portland with 8 other creative women, people wanted to know why I was going — what was the purpose of this trip. Being the purposeful person that I am, I was quick to provide them with what I believed were “reasonable” expectations for the trip — rest, rejuvenation, and connection.

journey

However, the only real reason I embarked on this journey was that I said “yes” when Meghan (the lovely soul who dreamed the weekend into reality) asked. This simple utterance triggered a magical sequence of events, in which 9 individual women came together and created a collective tribe, that continues to unfold.

Rain was forecasted, but my polka-dotted rain boots never left the darkness of my suitcase because the sun shined every day. Discussions of the everyday — work and relationships — were peppered with the extraordinary — whale-sightings and moon-sets. We brought new creations — mosaics, collages, and photographs — into the world.

However, perhaps not surprisingly, for me when it really boils down to it, this is a story of voice.

My interactions with this amazing group of women began through their voices. I heard their voices through the lovely words they wrote in their blogs and e-mails, but also through their actual voices — some giddy, some knowing, some tentative — during our initial phone conversations planning the logistics for the trip. Some people spoke more, some spoke less. Some were louder and some were softer. Everyone had an accent.

When we arrived at our beach house, I was finally able to put their voices, names, and faces together. Some were different, not better or worse, just different from what I expected. In the quiet voice that I heard over the phone I found a strong wisdom. The voice of practicality was full of dreams. The voice of cynicism spoke of possibility. The voice that felt stuck found direction for the next step. The voice of frustration found hope. The voice that often wants to have it all figured out voiced her desire to just play. The broken voice sang sweet songs of connection. Voices of loss were full of joy. And, even though there were a lot of voices, the universe had room for all of them.

"The Tribe" Photo: Rebecca Murphy

As we worked on our mission statements, each person trying to find their own words and then excitedly sharing their voice with the group, I was reminded that one of my truths is that everyone wants to be heard. And over the weekend, we heard and were heard.

Some of us spoke things outloud that we had never spoken before. Some of us found healing from old hurts. Others found hope for new dreams. All of us were brave. It can be scary to share scars that we have buried deep in our hearts.  What if people don’t understand? What if they judge? What if they hear the words that we are saying, but don’t really hear us? It can be even scarier to share our dreams. By speaking our dreams outloud, they become more real. What if our dream is silly? What if we try and we fail? What if we succeed?

We also heard the voices of our two tribal sisters who could not physically be there. Their poems and words were shared and we felt their spirits. Even the chantings of the tribal women who came before us sometimes found their way up through the fireplace as we shared, connected, played, dreamed, and loved.

By coming together, we began to identify, remember, and reconnect with our own individual voices, but we also began to hear the whispers of a collective tribe. When I flew back to Nebraska last Sunday, The Tribe’s voices stayed with me. As I dozed in and out of sleep, I still heard the voices of Meghan, Elizabeth, Emily, Melissa, Rebecca, Sophia, Darlene, Celina, Stefanie, and Lindsey. I continue to carry their voices back into my world and they are helping me to remember that I, too, have a voice. One that is authentic, vulnerable, wholehearted, imperfect, curious, joyful, and worthy of being heard.

Tribal Voices