Page 29 - 2019 EMERGING WRITERS FELLOWSHIP ANTHOLOGY1

One of the highlights of the Esalen experience was the reading held on the second night,

in which Campers were invited to share up to 250 words of their work. The Fellows
inspired one another to participate, meeting before the event for read-throughs and to

push each other on. Not only was the comradery within the fellowship a beautiful

experience in and of itself, but hearing other Campers’ work dismantled the façade of
differentness and showed that through our uniqueness, we share more than we realize.

One of my favorite sounds in the world is when a group of writers, at hearing something
that resonates, hits a collective mmmmmmmm as if being fed, That sound connected us

as much as our stories and filled the space whenever we met.

In order to achieve balance, the oyster must share something for all the world (or
at least the world around them) to see.

After the shock of landing at Esalen

and spending the first night, the days

beat to a rhythm. I began most
mornings by stepping out the door,

standing in place, and admiring the
view, followed by writing time, sitting

in my favorite chair at the edge of the
lawn while listening to the waves

crashing on the beach.

I connected with the land as much as the people, and, in some ways, more so, which is

one of the gifts Esalen gave me. At that point in my journey, I craved serenity and safety
more than anything, which I find more consistently in nature than with people. While I

wanted to share myself with those around me, the lingering fog of my depression kept me
hidden. Sam, in her wisdom, one day at lunch called me out on that saying, “He’s 6 foot 4

and tries to hide himself.” This is my story: I disappear among people. While others share
themselves easily, I tend towards shutting down. Why talk when others have so much to

listen to? Why talk when nothing new can be said?

Perhaps in writing I say the things I cannot—could not—in person:

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