SwampFire
Eleventh Retreat: 2018
Steve Smith’s 4 Corners Gallery, Angola IN
Reading/critique sessions are the heart of SwampFire. This year’s Friday and Saturday evening readings were especially varied in content and genre, with a complex mixture of tones and styles.
Each year, our host Steve Smith provides an art activity for the participants. This year he created a SwampFire logo for a t-shirt printing project.
This year, besides the evening reading sessions and the t-shirt printing, Mey Hasbrook, a visual artist and poet, provided a “naming your grandmother” activity that resulted in pieces to be incorporated in an art project she has been working on recently.
Jenni Repka, Marian Plant, Dawn Burns, Mary Catherine Harper, Steve Smith
Mey watches as Bex draws on paper made by Mey for her “Naming Our Grandmothers” project. 
More “Naming Our Grandmothers” project work . . . by Joyce Meier. 
Mary Catherine and Bex spar with pot holders. 
When did Marian’s marshmallow fork become a sword? 
Steve and Jenni laugh at the antics. 
Focused on her phone, Dawn is oblivious to the “sword play.” 
Focused work in the quiet space behind the apple tree.
Swipe left on phone.
Reflections by retreat participants . . .
Returning to Indiana(with gratitude to D. B)
Kindness has its own cadence,
Its own voice. Unhurried. Lilting.
A murmur. Lifting and resting.
Lifting and settling. Slow waters
Elevating the everyday words.
“Do you need anything?” rises.
Stirs the tops of trees. Sings.
Gentle as an eddy. Soft as a cat’s paw.
“There you go.” thrums. Remains steady.
A connection.
A deep, low frequency.
All as soothing as the oars
In rhythm. Dipped and pulled.
Dipped and filled. A heartbeat.
A haven. An offer of sanctuary.
For all of us who seek. For all.~Amy Wray Irish
July 8, 2018
I am queen of the fire! I loved the opportunity to contribute in a practical way to the SwampFire Retreat. It is always an honor to be trusted, as I am here.
Seeing familiar faces, people returning, coming together to share in the peace of this space, it always fills me with such calm. I am rejuvenated and relaxed.
I love the presence of new people (I mean you, Amy), the embrace of a face and person who can share in this space so magically created years ago by Dawn and MC. And so, I am grateful. I am refreshed. I am encouraged. I look forward to pursuing ideas, words and friendships.
And, as always, I can’t wait for next year!
To all before and any in the future: “Never forget to be yourself.”Always,~Bex Miller
July 2018
Thank you for everybody! Thank you for three days when I am a writer.~Marcy
Down deep
in the circle—warm embraceof words—burning logssnap nearby.
We are held
in friendship—this makeshiftshelterof expectantlistening.
I am grateful
for the gift ofpresenceand the fieldalight withfireflies.~Mey Hasbrookfemestiza.com
July 2018
Late-night conversations about art, acceptance, and family. Some singing. Listening—as people share their work: watching the stars and the occasional two-seater plane skimming the tops of nearby fields. Laughter, and tears. The smell of the campfire, the taste of gritty baked sweet potatoes. So happy to be here, in this warm company!
Thank you again to Mary Catherine, Dawn, and Steve for hosting. You all make my summer so special.~Joyce
SwampFire—7 July 2018
Here I am again! I have been talking about this retreat to family, friends, and anyone willing, and finally here I am! I was afraid that my lack of continuation of my story would be deemed lazy, but that is a common worry. I am so happy to be among such an understanding and supportive group!Nothing is good without practice! Keep creating!~Jenni
July 7, 2018
Seven years ago I sat in the circles of SwampFire for the first time. I felt awkward. Sleeping arrangements were unconventional to me. “Just find a place on the floor and I’ll help you inflate the air mattress,” MC said. I stood next to the overflowing kitchen table and saw no real “place,” let alone a place with any pseudoprivacy. But we stretched out on the flat air mattress, me pushing purses and backpacks and who knew what out of the way. It was 100+ degrees during the day and probably 99º that night. But at the end of the weekend I was hooked. Whether I ever got the nerve to read something or not, I was hooked. I still am. And now, at last, I am fully relaxed.~Marian R. Plant
July 2018
Each year before I write in this journal, I first write what I want to say in another private journal, craft my words into how I want them to appear not only to myself but also to others, and maybe even especially to others. Not this year. This year I abandon what I started to craft and just write raw and fresh, and simply here.SwampFire. I love this place and these people, every year the mix a little different, and every year the mix just right! This year a friend—Amy—from my MFA days a part of it all. And the movement of life (the movement of swamp, the movement of fire) a beautiful thing to swim within.Grateful for these days, for restoration and reunion.Until next year,~Dawn
Where We Are, What We Are
It’s the place where we ask time
to stop and listen to what we
seek to become, and so it does.
Where the space we call sky
falls to earth, flares into art,
gifts us with its bright embers.
Where each writer’s voice
grows so tall it can be seen
towering above the trees.
Where we learn to trust
our hands as they chisel out
the words that make us.~Mary Catherine
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