Thursday, October 15, 2009

October 25th, 10:30a – 12:30p

It will be Illuminating

Miracle Mile 2009 Laura Cerwinske


(Gratis to students in October or November online classes)

All you need is a pen, a pad,
and a willingness to let go on the page.

Seating is limited, so reserve your place quickly
by contacting

Tuesday, September 1, 2009




Arriving October 8th @ 4pm

and departing October 13th before 1pm

The cost for the retreat is all-inclusive – Laura’s classes, fresh, delicious organic meals, and your room. The amount is determined by your choice of accommodations. Prices include dinner on the evening of Friday the 8th, breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the 9th through the 12th and breakfast on Tuesday the 13th.


(per person for 5 nights)

Double occupancy - $1095 per person

Triple or Quad - $1035 per person

Single occupancy - $1395


(per person for 5 nights)

Shared Bath - Double occupancy – $1185 per person

Single occupancy – $1485 per person

Single Bath - Double occupancy - $1260 per person

Single occupancy - $1635 per person

(there are only two of these)


Pool Heating - $100 additional per day. Spa is heated 24 hours a day at no extra charge

Sweat Lodge - $100 per sweat. Holds 8-10 people

Extra Meal Charges - Breakfast - $10, Lunch - $15,

Dinner - $25

Late Check-Out (if Ranch is available) - $100 per hour

CONTACT to register

Monday, August 31, 2009

Cultivate your Spirituality

through your Imagination


a 5-day southern California retreat



October 8 – 12, 2009

Imagine nurturing your spirituality and creativity within an 840-acre oasis in Southern California where you can refresh your spirit among flower gardens, fruit orchards, fountains, streams, ponds, and mountain footpaths. At Royal Way Ranch in the high Mojave you will also enjoy a selection of accommodations and wonderful meals from their organic garden.

In course of this beautiful retreat with Laura Cerwinske, you will write the story of your life as Scripture, recognizing the holiness of the path you have taken and your power to create the next unfolding. Morning and evening writing sessions with Laura allow ample time for further creative exploration, meditation, and recreation.

Laura is an artist, altar maker, and teacher of a transformational process called Radical Writing that safely unleashes the infinite power of uninhibited self-expression. The process engages and focuses the conscious and subconscious activities of the mind to promote health and healing. It requires no writing expertise or experience. As a student of spiritual practice for more than 35 years, Laura incorporates into her teaching her knowledge of meditation, shamanism, yoga, dance, reiki, hypnotherapy, Reichian therapy, primal therapy, traditional psychotherapy, divination, Lukumi, A Course in Miracles, and the Wise Woman traditional of healing. She is the author of more than 20 books on art, writing, and spirituality. See more at:

Radical Writing is a creative tool as well as a diagnostic and healing technique. As you apply it to Write your Life’s Scripture, you will learn the Power of Your Own Story and recognize how your untold stories direct your life. You will discover the unrealized meaning in your words, deeds, and memories and learn how to alleviate the effects of patterns of thought and behavior; You will be introduced to the Six Classic Principles of Transformation and be shown the power of writer/artist as healer. See more at:

FOR SPECIFIC INFORMATION about costs, schedules, accommodations, and the program itself, contact To take a vitual tour of Royal Way Ranch, go to

Also, take a look at Laura’s Radical Writing Adventure in Oaxaca, Mexico May 7 – 15, 2010


Wednesday, March 18, 2009


The first time I met Blusie she was a five-year-old pup, bounding into the home of a former boyfriend with all the energy and joy of a six-month-old on speed. A yellow lab, she had the exuberant, all-loving happiness typical of her breed and demonstrated it from the moment she raced into the living room and up the stairs, around the landing, down the stairs and onto the sofa where the former boyfriend’s six-year-old twins screamed with excitement and self-protection. Her name was Lucy then, and she belonged to a friend of his who lived nearby.

A year later, after Simone’s recent death, the former boyfriend called to tell me that his neighbor was looking for a home for Lucy, who had become epileptic from being contained and alone all day in a small apartment. He stressed the allure of her sweet pink nose, ever cold, while I recalled the ferocity of her high-speed wagging tail. I decided to rename her Blusie in honor of the former boyfriend’s impossibly blue eyes.

Like Simone, Blusie wasted no time in fitting in. Food and play were her avid passions, and Fleischer and the cat took her exuberance in stride. Blusie especially loved men and children. She would run after them at a moment’s sighting, terrifying some and delighting others. She stole balls from boys playing catch in the street, she rushed across lawns to greet perfect strangers, and like most Labs, assumed everyone in the world loved her. Every day was the best day of Blusie’s life. She never had another seizure.

That sweet pink cold nose was a force of nature. No matter how hard I tried to keep her in the yard, she always found a way out to go tracking. One neighbor in particular, a guardian angel, no doubt, was forever spotting her down the street. Others, blocks away, would stop me on our walks to tell me how she’d shown up and joined their touch football games or stolen their snacks. Once, after a hurricane, when I was sleeping with all the windows and doors open until the electricity returned, I was awakened at midnight by a neighbor who, sitting on his front porch for air, had spied her trotting by. I thought she was still asleep next to the bed. Then there were the times when she simply seem to disappear before my eyes – sleeping in the grass outside my office door one moment, out of the sight the next. It seemed I spent half my life driving around the neighborhood looking for her: I once counted the number of times she’d gone off and I found her – 24.

The nose also made Blusie a beast on the leash. She tugged so hard when I walked her that I had to use a choke chain to keep her from taking off my arm in pursuit of a scent.

Blusie conveyed emotion so intensely, it felt human. Especially when food was around. She liked to post herself just outside the kitchen, turn her big black eyes into those of a starving poster child, and stare in want until a treat appeared. At her happiest, she lay on her back, stretched her paws into the air, and wriggled until her mouth opened with a giant grin. Then she’d lay waiting for me to come and pound on her tummy.

Most of all, Blusie loved to party. The more people, food, and music, the more she was up for a good time. When she was docile, she slept the sleep of angels and snored like a trucker; when she was delighted, which was most of the time, she pranced like a hobby horse; when she was excited, her tail could have pounded a kettle drum. In fact, in her excitement at running to the door to welcome whoever might be there, that tail usually smacked an assemblage of imitation fruit piled in a Piero della Robbia-like still life nearby. Visitors often had to cross a sea of strewn bananas, artichokes, and apples to enter.

Blusie remained the puppy-like party-girl until she turned thirteen. Then her hips grew frail and the feed-me stare began to look haunted. I had her on medications and vitamins and steroid injections. The tail wagged, but unconvincingly. One Saturday night my neighbors had a big pool party, and she, naturally, found her way in. Food, treats, water, friends – she wasn’t as quick as she used to be, but the puppy spirit resurged. She snarfed and trotted, chased a ball and went for a swim.

The next day she was spent. I worried, coaxed, kissed, cooed. The haunted face had returned. That night the cat woke me at three am. Odd, he was prompt about being fed at seven. I got up to let him in. Blusie had moved from her cushion at the foot of my bed to the cool terrazzo floor in the living room. I knew immediately when I saw her that she was gone. I went to hold her, stroke her. When I bent to kiss her, I found that even though the beautiful blond body was inert, the sweet pink nose was still cold.