And the Universe Said, "Yes." - Squam Art Workshops, Spring 2015
I am rarely at a loss for words.  I'm an avid writer of blog posts, and an even more able chatterer (unless the context is public speaking...then all bets are off).  Words are my thing.  I usually choose them carefully and aim them true, but here I sit finding it difficult to find the right ones to convey everything I experienced at the Squam Art Workshops last week.  The last time I was this verbally lost over an experience I had taken my oldest son and fellow Thoreauvian, then 17, to Walden Pond. The blog post that followed that trip was called, "Speechless...for a change."
For months prior to teaching at Squam I had been contemplating what my proper direction in this craft really should be.  Like all big decisions, the answer was right there all along.  You know how this feels.  The answers are located right in the center of your being, it feels almost like they're sitting at the center of your body, and therefore the old turn of phrase "gut feeling" applies.  We treat these gut feelings like heartburn or hangovers.  We ignore them when we're very busy doing whatever it is we think we should be, or when they don't seem convenient.
But at Squam, you're living in that space where the answers are, and the pressing and influencing expectations of others, or even of yourself, fall away.  You are encouraged to be in the present moment, to be attentive to process, not product, and to shelve your preconceptions and let the retreat unfold for you as it will.  As it is said at Squam, this is where the magic happens.
 The lacy dreamy dreamcatcher at the Squam Art Workshops. We were encouraged to write our dreams on a feather and pin them to the bottom. I actually pinned the dream of a dear friend on to this, because at Squam, you feel as though all of your own have come true.
 I brought a little wool for my students...
 This was the prototype design, but every student created something very unique to her own aesthetic and style.
Having grown up summering on Little Sebago Lake in Gray, Maine (see a previous post on this here), I really feel at home and in my element in this kind of environment.  It centers me in a way no other space can, and this contributed to the magic I felt at Squam.
Also contributing to the magic?  Great lodging and great food.  I shared our cottage, aptly named "Bungalow," with Sarah Sousa.  We had a great time catching up, having not seen one another in person in almost two years.
 The food was amazing. Whatever your dietary choices or restrictions are, you are well taken care of.
 
And then, of course, there was yarn bombing.  Lots and lots of yarn bombing.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
And the chalkboards...every day at the dining hall...
The Squam Art Fair and Ravelry Revelry, held on the last evening of the retreat, is a hand made paradise.  The amount of talent and creativity in that one room is humbling.  It is open to the public, and I highly recommend you visit it - and shop! - whenever it is held.  I did not get many pictures of the fair because I was a participant with a table, however, there are many pics out there on the net.
 
I went to Squam not knowing exactly what to expect.  I was a bit nervous about teaching for the first time there.  Would I be good enough?  Would my class be engaging enough?  After all, this was a very accomplished group of students who had already worked with some very well known teachers.  Would I be enough?  What I discovered was two-fold.  On the one hand, I was enough.  I received the sweetest feedback on my class from my students, and I want to reach through the screen and hug every one of you.  On the other hand, I have so much to learn and so many directions in which to grow.  I was enough, but I can be so much more.  This is one of the primary lessons of Squam.  We are enough.  Right here and right now, in this moment, we are enough.  And yet, we are filled with potential at every point in our lives to do more and be more and catch our dearest dreams.
In the midst of these lessons, I gained clarity.  Questions offered up for weeks and months were answered resoundingly in the affirmative, and that's a gift.   I do not believe my experience is unique.  I think this was happening all around me, in the lives of my fellow "Squammies."   If we give ourselves the space and the freedom, the answers come.
The little fairy village below was on the wooded path between the dining hall and my classroom.  Literally and figuratively, love and spirit can be found along the paths at Squam.   Hope to see you there next year.  In the meantime, happy living and happy hooking.  - Beth
              
              
              
            - Parris House Wool Works
 
      



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