Spring stillness

"By being still and receptive, instead of busily trying to find solutions, we give our intelligence the time and space it needs to find an appropriate way to proceed.... What is fresh and alive comes only from the unknown."

- John Welwood, Ordinary Magic

Sanctuary

I've retreated to a sweet, calm sanctuary way out in the woods, where I'll spend a month writing, reading, walking, and meditating. Space! Quiet! Or rather, songs of nature: birds, water in a pond, horses.

Having spent the past few months living with less space, this is magical and I am grateful. Thanks K, for making this possible for me.

I've decided it's hard to live with someone you're not sleeping with. If you're having sex this indicates a level of coming together, of commitment and intimacy that lets you be in close quarters on a daily basis: sharing a bathroom, padding around in socks, working, playing, being crazy emotional when you need or want to be.

I'm working on my second book. It's sexual, angry, outrageous. All the better to be in a place where I can laugh / scream / cry AS LOUD AS I PLEASE!

September

The change of seasons in Maine is just as drastic (if not sometimes rocky) as its coast. A week ago, it was flip-flop weather: warm, sunny, blue skies. Now, it's shoe weather: cool, breezy, with clouds.

As the trees seem to be getting ready to turn, we move into the typical harvest time.

For me, the harvest - fruits of my labors - will be my book.

My time in Maine is drawing to a close, so I savor each moment, making sure to take the back roads that show me views like the one you see above.

Entering the Silence

Lately I've been so wrapped up in all kinds of noise - real and imagined, physical and mental - that I am craving silence.

Native American tradition speaks about Entering the Silence, or going into the deep quiet within you to access inner knowing. I'm doing this with 20 minutes of daily meditation. And I feel yoga lets you touch silence too, in terms of letting pure energy take over. I guess there are a number of ways to Enter the Silence.

It's only after having experienced summer and winter here that I truly get, truly appreciate the gift of the Maine winter. The summer is about tourists and traffic and locals scrambling to deal with both. But in winter, there is silence, and you can immerse yourself - and find yourself - in the rugged landscape and the elements.

It is a marvelous thing.

I kind of feel like I am eating some words right now...

...and no, I will not be here this winter!