My inner Georgia O'Keefe

Ah, how time has gone by.

This past spring I was looking for a way to shake myself out of a rut. It was a long, cold winter and my dad has recently passed away... so I signed up for a quick weekend seminar.

It was not very good.

As fall rolls in, the seminar people are calling me to announce their fall seminar. I cannot bear to talk to them. The people from the organization seemed to have swallowed the medicine and thought it was the best thing since powered toast. And for them, perhaps it was. For me, it was not.

The weekend entailed such exciting activities as playing patty cake and peak-a-boo. Yes. It was quite the inner vagina staring feel-good seminar. And quite possible humiliating. What was I thinking?

It was on par with the self-help guru played by Patrick Swayze in Donnie Darko spewing the love/fear dichotomy of Cunning Visions. The seminar I went to was not love/fear... crap, I cannot even remember their negative end of the spectrum. Well, whatever, the gist was to love ourselves more completely; I get that. But via patty cake to better discover that we are worth discovering? Well, that's a little to dippily meta for me to handle without cracking a smile.

Clearly this seminar was not my way to happiness.