About
This is the online resource for ELYSEUM, a writers group that originated in San Francisco. We now meet on a weekly basis at Harbin Hot Springs and welcome entries from people who have attended our workshop or retreat.
MANIFESTO:
ELYSEUM is a diverse literary community established to facilitate, inspire, encourage and exemplify excellence in literature, writing and spoken word.
Our events, workshops and retreats are dynamic settings where participants can feel safe and free to effectively express themselves as well as to sharpen their skills in writing, presentation and observation.
Through the sublime values of humor, beauty, authenticity and sustainability, members of ELYSEUM take their proper place in the vibrant, living tradition of literary excellence.
ELYSEUM: a Paradise for Heroes & Writers.
kylabay
gonzagasaga
buffalo15
redshoes3
jonathandonihue
accentonwords
ebvirgo
January 25, 2010 at 5:42 am
Hey! Hows this thing work??? ((^_^))
December 21, 2010 at 3:17 am
It was light outside. She awoke to the sounds of rain and wind blowing the branches against the roof of her small farmhouse. The fire was out. Her dogs snuggled under the blankets keeping the pack warm. Dream fragments present until her full bladder demanded she peel herself out of the warm, cozy nest.
Her addiction to caffeine directed her next steps toward the kitchen where she packs down the finely ground espresso and prepares the machine for her daily fix, an almond milk latte. (SL)
Hearing the thump of the letter-slot door, she went into the hallway – mostly bills, and one letter covered with stamps, from Bali. Curious, she opened the letter only to find several sheets of fine ivory stationary with the monogram “aMw.” Flipping to the last page, she tried to make out the signature, but it was just a swirl of snatches. So, she started at the first page and read.
“My dear Alexis:
After all these years, finally I have found you. I was a good friend, a very good friend of your mother’s. That, of course, was before you were born.
(EW)
I know that your mother passed several years ago. I wanted to reach out sooner yet lacked the courage. You are probably wondering who I am and why I’m writing.
There is no easy way to say this…
I am your biological mother. Annie, your mother, was my eldest sister. I fell pregnant with you when I was barely seventeen. Your mother, being twenty five years old then, offered to adopt you and I ran away to Bali. (TC)
When my sister, your other mother, passed on, no one else knew where I was. It has taken these four years for the news to reach me. I questioned my teacher, she insisted that I come clean, face the consequences of my youthful folly and give you the gift of truth. Annie would have wanted that also, had she not passed suddenly. Alexis, your father, was my English literature professor. His name is Alexander. If you want to find him, you can, but I prefer my life as a Buddhist nun.
(JA)
As a devotee to the dharma I know that even our blood ties are but mere ties to Samsara, the wheel of karma. But my dear, I am aware that my monastic existence is a far cry from your own secular life. So with compassion, I pass this information to you.”
(RG)
So many confusing emotions coursing through my body -shocked, I stand in the cold kitchen with shaking hands trying to understand the enormity of this moment. It was as if the world stopped on that cold day. A deep resonant truth rang true in my bones.
(SL)