Teaching is itself a creative act. Our time with each other is like a blank canvas or piece of clay, something we get to shape together. I like to start at the beginning: Here we are, together in time and in space, whether the room be physical or virtual. Just by looking into each other’s eyes, we can begin to sense how alive each of us is—with feelings and ideas, needs and longings. Looking even more deeply, we see something vaster, that part which has no form or color, wears no brand, has no status; it cannot be contained. It is sacred.

None of this has to be verbalized—it cannot. But it can infuse what we say. It can guide all our interaction. In a culture that explodes with information and distractions, I’m grateful for the spaces where together we refine our awareness, establishing ourselves in vibrant relation to the life around and within us, honoring our questions and observations, our evolving ideas and feelings. Often, what is dearest to us is that which is most hidden. Sometimes, it is too subtle or complex, sometimes too precious, too vulnerable. And yet writers find a way. That is why we value them so deeply. It is why I find teaching literature and talking about books so meaningful: Look, they are saying it! and see how they’re doing it! 

And it is why I love teaching workshops even more because then I get to invite others to participate in this creative expression. What I say at the outset is that no one can tell them what they’re supposed to write, including myself. Sorry, I say, I can’t help you there, and … isn’t that wonderful? It’s both the thrill of writing and the challenge. It’s the challenge of every creative endeavor, which includes living one’s life. No one can tell us how. Only we know what we must do. When I lead a workshop, my task is to help individuals situate themselves on this threshold. What they have entrusted to me is their sacred connection to themselves, and by instilling love and trust in the process of writing, I hope to strengthen that bond. What they must write, as well as live, is a vision of being that is absolutely unique. No one quite perceives the world or experiences it the way they do.  That is their gift to the rest of us.

My goal always is to make myself dispensable. That is why we investigate process as well as technique.  I want people to be able to strike out on their own, needing only pen and paper. I long to step out of the way. Find for yourself a quiet spot, I say, at home or outside; give yourself that time. It will be your rendez-vous with yourself. No intimacy is more precious or more tender.

I am in love with the person who will be revealed in that moment. That is also the person I strive to see and address during our time together, the person whom I am constantly inviting out into the open. What an amazing vehicle writing is for this emergence.

Altogether, when I gaze at a student, what I see is the potential that is theirs and theirs alone.  This is not something hypothetical or forecast. This is what is real and present. Each one of us has come from the infinite and is headed, every moment, into the infinite. It is an absolute privilege to accompany someone on this journey.