Village Voices is the showcase of creativity by the members and volunteers of The Village Common of Rhode Island. We welcome submissions in all media: 2- and 3-dimensional art, creative writing, transformative ideas, crafting, and art collections. As important is the personal stories that accompany each submission.

See the guidelines for submission.

So where did my journey take me? First, I went to live at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Stockbridge, MA to participate in the 4-month Spiritual Lifestyle Training program (SLT). During many years prior, I had attended several Kripalu workshops including a 7-day Meditation Retreat, Savoring Life’s Lessons, and Transformation Through Transition.

Having benefited immensely from the healing power of this brick-and-mortar establishment, I thought of Kripalu less as a center, and more as a nurturing mother – Mother Kripalu.

During the SLT program, I worked at the main switchboard, learned the basics of Hinduism, and most importantly, was encouraged to engage my mind, body, and spirit. Each evening, I and my spiritual "family" participated in activities designed to help us to explore our unhealthy attitudes and relationships - past and present - to mourn our losses, and to free ourselves for healing. For the first time, I learned how to nurture myself. Later, I would learn how to nurture others.

Too heavy, you say? No fun? Didn’t you ever just chill out? Oh yes. Fun and chilling out were on the menu. Imagine wild, free-form, high-energy dancing; various forms of yoga offered twice a day; Sanskrit chanting that continued for 72 hours uninterrupted; the sauna and the dimly lit whirlpool; healing arts massages; a silent meditation room open 24/7, and gentle, solitary hikes in the Berkshires. Each day offered numerous opportunities for exploration, integration, healing, and celebration. I said “yes” to as many as possible before I fell into bed at night exhausted yet in a state of bliss.

After 4 months of this exhilarating and intense program, I left Kripalu to decompress, living in Pittsfield, MA for 2 months. Excited at the thought of residing again in a spiritual community, I decided to live at The Abode of the Message, a Sufi Order International community and conference and retreat center in New Lebanon, NY, 15 minutes from Kripalu. Located on 400 acres, much of it is forest. The previous inhabitants had been Shakers.

While at The Abode, I served in several capacities: guest services coordinator; teacher’s aide in the private elementary school on campus; and instructional guide for classes in Marshall Rosenberg’s “Nonviolent Communication.” I learned the basics of Sufism and became immersed in the daily challenges of living in an intentional community of spiritual leaders, paying guests, renters, homeowners, and volunteers. My mind was engaged.

And what about my spirit? On Sunday mornings, I was revitalized by the Universal Worship service held in the sanctuary. During this hour, homage is paid to many of the major religions and traditions through scripture, literature, music, and dance. I was delighted to be introduced to the works of famous Persian poets such as Rumi and Hafiz and to the power and beauty of the cello.

Remembering to engage my body, I walked along Chair Factory Road (one of the many reminders of the Shaker heritage) and meditated in the garden and by the lake. At the organic farm, for the first time, I picked strawberries right off the bushes and devoured them. Learning to belly dance, I was tickled by the tinkling of the bells draped around my hips. Dervish whirling? I tried but failed to master the dizziness – one more lesson in embracing my imperfections! The weekly Dances of Universal Peace featured dances from international traditions accompanied by songs in English, Arabic, Hebrew, and Sanskrit. Visiting musicians from all over the world would accompany the dances. Whenever I heard the tonal beauty of the tabla ( twin hand drums of Northern India), I could feel the life force pulsing through me.

So many gifts, so many delights! Each morning, noon, and night, I gave thanks to the universe for my good fortune.

As The Abode celebrated the millennium, I began to think about the next step on my journey. Often, I would have niggling thoughts about having a full-time job with health benefits somewhere closer to Boston. However, the anguish of leaving The Abode would interrupt these thoughts rather quickly. How could I leave this loving community which had claimed me as one of its own? How could I separate myself from the intentional spiritual presence, the reverence for nature, music, and silence, the deep sharing, and the trust? What is more, I had become attached to the glorious seasonal gifts of the Berkshires: the spectacular colors of fall and the Tanglewood concerts in the summer.

I asked myself if I had achieved what I had set out to do when I left my job in Boston 2 years ago. “Did I find myself?” Yes, I had. “Where had I been?” Inside, buried under significant emotional baggage. “Was I ready to live my life more consciously? Yes. “Was I acting more compassionately towards myself and others?” Yes, again. “Was I ready to go back to mainstream society?” Almost.

The transition from The Abode to Rhode Island took me another 2 years. Living in Pittsfield, I went to both Kripalu and The Abode often. However, my priority was to spend time in Providence networking with directors and trainers at the Rhode Island Department of Education. Finally, I believed that the lessons I had learned at Kripalu and the skills which I had practiced at The Abode were integrated sufficiently such that it was time to bring my insights and voice “to the real world.”

In 2002, I moved from Pittsfield to Pawtucket. In 2019, I became involved with Providence Village. For the first time in 17 years, after careful searching, I knew that I had once again found a community where I belonged, where I would be seen, heard, and appreciated. I have been encouraged to offer what I do best and I have accepted opportunities to step out of my comfort zone. The friendships I have forged are based on shared affection and compassion, and a profound respect for our mutual aging process. If that were not enough, I have been assisted with home maintenance, provided information for optimal health and safety as I age, and driven to medical appointments.

And what have I given back? Many of my ideas have been welcomed and implemented, especially in the area of program development. I have participated actively in the Oak Hill book club, the Oak Hill neighborhood circle gatherings, Alice Cross’s film club, the Pawtucket advocates for racial and social justice (PARSJ), and the impromptu writing group. Because of the Providence Village, these past 4 years have found me flourishing in ways reminiscent of my blossoming at Kripalu and The Abode. I feel more vibrant, connected, and joyous now than I have in almost 2 decades.

Creative’s Statement

From an early age, I had ideas that seemed to bubble up out of nowhere. First, there isn’t an idea. Then, there is. I shake my head with wonder when an idea springs out of some unknown place within me. How does this happen? I know I am consciously planting a seed but then, something mysterious takes over. Is this the channeling process? Believing that some mysteries are better left as such, I practice not knowing.  Reactions to my ideas have ranged from “Spot-on” to “What was she thinking?”. Am I attached to whether or not my ideas are implemented? No. What gives me joy is witnessing the birth of the idea, the creative process, itself, and being amazed at what takes its first breath.

My creative ideas over the years

FRENCH MAGAZINE PUBLISHER
As a French teacher at Boulder High School in Colorado, I encouraged my French IV and V students to create a quarterly magazine to be written mainly in French. They named it “La Cinquieme Colonne” (The 5 th Column). In addition to short articles about French history and culture, the magazine included cartoons and crossword puzzles. I found that students were more willing to swallow the bitter pills of advanced grammar when they could look forward to creating a popular magazine feature, “Chere Piplette,” their version of Dear Abby.

EVENT PLANNER
In the 1980s, Jewish Vocational Service in Boston was providing both English as a Second Language classes and employment services to hundreds of Russians, Vietnamese, and Haitian refugees. Our client caseloads were almost unmanageable. After 10 years at JVS, I gave notice that I would be leaving to attend the SLT program at Kripalu. My supervisor, in her reference letter, stated that I had been her “idea” person.
One of my ideas had been to initiate a monthly celebration for employment counselors and case managers. On a rotating basis, each of the 12 staff members would coordinate potluck contributions for a Friday afternoon get-together. At the celebration, each of us would highlight one achievement and ask for input regarding a particularly challenging case. At these “brag and flag” events, there was always cake. All month we looked forward to the camaraderie, laughter, problem-solving, and stress relief. Who could ask for anything more? Did I mention that there was cake?

“AARK” CREATOR
An initiative I promoted at The Abode of the Message was to replace the traditional Secret Santa tradition with “AARK,” Anonymous Angels of the Random Kind. For 2 weeks leading up to Christmas, community members (about 50) were encouraged to offer a gift or service anonymously to one or more members. Many of us were on heightened alert during those 14 days, not knowing if we would be “AARKed”. Would we receive a chocolate kiss in our mailbox or maybe even have our car shoveled out after a winter storm? Would anyone “AARK” us? Anyone at all? And whom would we, ourselves “AARK” and how original could we be? 20 years later, I still display a Christmas tree ornament in the shape of a small, white and gold angel given to me by an “AARK”.

YOUNG POET AMBASSADOR COACH
For 2 years at an underperforming middle school in Providence, I served as the school-based coordinator for career and technical education. My most memorable accomplishment was to groom a group of ten 6th graders to become “Young Poet Ambassadors.” After arranging visits from the RI poet laureate, I encouraged students to write poems and practice reading them out loud. After several taxing yet hilarious rehearsals with these antsy 12-year-olds, they were ready for prime time. First, they read their poems to 4th graders at a nearby elementary school. Then, they read them in a private meeting with the principal. Juice and cookies? Of course! Students who rarely received positive recognition were stars for the day. And they were proud!

POET FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS
In 2022, I wrote a poem for Valentine’s Day that was dedicated to our Creative Aging Soul Circle, affiliated with the First Unitarian Church of Providence. The poem is entitled “A Valentine’s Manifesto for Us Creative Agers: 2022.” The line that is repeated at the beginning and end is: “We love who we are and embrace who we will be.”

CELEBRATION BASKET
On New Year’s Eve, 2020 I decided that I didn’t celebrate “the positive” enough. I would simply take note and then turn my attention quickly to what is called “the tyranny of the urgent” and get back to work. So, I designed a method for making time and space to acknowledge celebration-worthy events: rare positive outcomes on the political stage; my accomplishments and “aha!” moments; those of friends and family; pleasant surprises; or just the simple pleasures of a day. On dated slips of paper, I described in one sentence what I was celebrating or being grateful for.

I have created hundreds of slips using colored Flair pens, colored paper, and scissors. Eye appeal? Stickers or my primitive doodles. I have written most of them in English, some in French, and a few in Spanish. Where do they reside? They are “at home” in a large, flat, scalloped basket which I decorated with colored ribbons. Occasionally, I sift through the slips, recalling the joy that each one had brought me originally, taking the time to savor the memories. The longer I linger, the happier I become. For me, these “bits of celebration” beat balloons and champagne! Maybe, I’ll call them “Celebits”. Now, there’s an idea!

photo montage by John Harkey
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