Thursday, November 10, 2016

Writing Challenge 2016 #9 - Shamanic Healing Ceremony

NWC #9- " Shamanic healing ceremony" DUE Nov 10th at 8am

In war torn countries where people have lost loved ones, seen their guts spewed out on the streets from bombs- where children have lost limbs due to land mines...
The theater can be very rough as it tries to reach such calloused over souls.

It can also be very soft and slow-moving and ethereal- more of a healing ceremony focused on the audience than on a character.

*CHALLENGE- Write your own version a Shamanic healing ceremony play*

Have an opening image, have it undergo some transformation, and end with the same image, but altered in some way.

Invoke water, wind, earth, fire. Sacrifice something if you desire.

Don't worry about theistic accuracy or cultural sensitivity- those things are important in real life but this is a personal grab bag of healing and melting and casting and restoring.

Good luck!


A WOMAN.  Dressed in black.

Plus an apron.

In a kitchen.

The look of the kitchen isn't as important as the suggestion of a kitchen.

The suggestion of a kitchen isn't as important as the smell.


As the feel.


Well, the sky here did not fall in.
I managed to bake a pie.

She gathers ingredients.


Granulated Sugar.

Brown Sugar.

Baking soda.




Chocolate Chips.


                          WOMAN (cont'd)
Now for some chocolate chip cookies.

She begins.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
I dressed in black today.
After a day of grieving, I'll be OK.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
It's not like anybody died.
It was just an election.
Elections have consequences.
But you still gotta eat.
And some of the eating should be pleasurable.
Otherwise, on days like this, why would you bother.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
Dressing in black isn't great when you're handling flour but that's what the apron's for.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
The phone banks are done.
We did what we could.
Sometimes you don't get the outcome you want.
The world spins forward.
Still plenty to do around the house.
Just to get started.
Just to keep moving.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
Holidays to prepare for.
Family coming home.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
The dogs still need to be walked.
The poop still needs to be picked up.
Their bowls still need to be filled.
The cat still needs someone to ignore till she feels like acknowledging my existence.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
They all know something's wrong.
They don't like to see me sad.
But the house is still standing.
We still have a home.
There's still food to drop on the ground to get hoovered up by four-legged vacuum cleaners.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
Maybe if the place smells normal, things will be normal.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
Gotta start somewhere.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
I'll save a little cookie dough for when he gets home from work.
A little dish in the refrigerator
An extra surprise.
Some things don't change.

                          She continues.

                          WOMAN (cont'd)
There will be cookies in the lobby at intermission, and again on your way out.
They will be warm.
There will be fruit cups for those who can't eat cookies.
There will be no charge for them.
Keep moving.
Keep thinking.
Keep praying.
Keep fighting.
As long as there's life, there's hope.
And so much of what we have, and others don't, we take for granted.
Let's practice being grateful.
Then make sure everyone still has something to be grateful for.

                          She continues.

                          Lights don't fade on her.

                          They rise on us.

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