Thrilled to be interviewed by The Writer. I spoke with the lovely Meredith Quinn about my history leading retreats, what yoga contributes to our creative process and my upcoming retreat near Jackson Hole.
We timed the retreat to end just as the Jackson Hole Writers Conference begins. I am pleased to say that I will be part of the conference and will be presenting a workshop!
Celebrate with Patricia and Diana Gordon – May 19, 2011!
Hedgerow Books of Levellers Press invites you to an evening of pure poetry…
Celebrate the publication of new work from Patricia Lee Lewis and Diana Gordon
Reading, Book Signing & Reception
May 19, 2011
Neilson Library Browsing Room
(First floor just to the right)
D M Gordon’s poems and stories have been published widely. Prizes include The Betsy Colquitt Award from descant, The Editor’s Choice Award from the Beacon Street Review, a First Prize for a short story from Glimmer Train. Phi Beta Kappa, Masters in Music from Boston University, she’s the recipient of a 2008 Massachusetts Cultural Council Artist Fellowship in fiction, having been a finalist in poetry in 2004. She’s been an equestrian and chamber musician, and currently works as a free-lance editor in both poetry and prose, and facilitates weekly public discussion of contemporary poetry, in its eighth year, for Forbes Library in Northampton, Massachusetts. She’s the author of Fourth World (Adastra Press, 2010) and Nightly, at the Institute of the Possible by Hedgerow Books, brand new. She’s currently at work on finishing novel set in the islands of British Columbia.
Patricia Lee Lewis was born and raised in Texas, where her three children were also born; for over 30 years she has lived and worked at Patchwork Farm Retreat in Western Massachusetts. She holds an MFA degree in Creative Writing from Vermont College, and a BA from Smith College, Phi Beta Kappa. Beloved mentor of many writers, leader of frequent writing retreats both nationally and internationally, she has also been the publisher of The Patchwork Journal. A grant in 2011, from the Massachusetts Cultural Council, enabled her to help establish a writing program at her local library. Trained to teach English to speakers of other languages (TESOL), Patricia and friends volunteer in Guatemala. Her first book of poems, A Kind of Yellow, was awarded first place by Writers Digest International.
There is a Gaelic prediction that whoever goes to Iona will go not once, but three times. It is a tiny island, barely 1½ miles by 3 miles, set across a narrow sound from the large island of Mull in the Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland. But the richness of its landscapes, its ancient history, and something mysterious and ineffable in its spirit, call the traveler to return.
When you approach Iona for the first time, it’s likely to be by ferry from the small port of Fionnphort on Mull, or from the north by private boat. You will see a small village, its front row of stone houses neatly lined along a street facing the Sound, and behind them, gentle hills holding stone buildings, farmland and sheep. Read more
By Patricia Lee Lewis.
Published in Hampshire Life Magazine.
In the ancient Celtic tradition of pilgrimage to sacred places, Erna Evans is going to Skomer Island.
We sit across a table on the train from Cardiff, strangers speeding along Wales’ south coast. As she talks about surviving the Holocaust, marrying an English doctor, becoming a widow, her eyes are as keen as a herring gull’s.
She calls herself a traveling housewife, and goes by train or bus every day to the cliff-walk along Wales’ edges, or to one of the small British islands, exploring as she can. Her swollen legs are made worse by Wales’ wet weather, so walking is hard; but she says the secret to life is not to mind the rain-and then every day is a good day. As I say goodbye and get off the train in Tenby, it begins to drizzle.
Visiting with the spirits of people whose 5,000-year-old rock paintings survive in preserves along the Rio Grande
COMSTOCK, Texas — Where three rivers come together, spirits must abound. I think this as I leave Big Bend National Park and head east toward los tres rios, the confluence of the Rio Grande, the Pecos and the Devils on the Texas-Mexico border.
The cliffs and canyons above these rivers are alive with paintings of fantastic figures, part human, part animal, part bird. They are believed to be ceremonial images 4,000 to 5,000 years old.
It is an April day at the end of the 20th century, and I am searching for holy places. I am here on a journey to honor the life of my eldest son, to make peace with his death by his own hand and to lay down, in the stark and sacred land of the state where we were born, my 20-year burden of guilt and sorrow.