Not for a long time, has a place sung “home” like this one does. It’s all been so quick – the work so hard, the ensuing body flare and pain so overwhelming – that the mind really hasn’t caught up with it yet. This place is ours, our new home close to sea, mountains and trees. Fog wraps the mountains, Canada geese congregate in the nearby field, and underneath our very window, amidst the perennials, a lonely maple turns yellow and seems to shout with the miracle of it.
E- once asked me how it would be if I had been encouraged to write: if my gifts had been nurtured, if the craft of word weaving had been regarded as something to be cherished, not reviled. I could only think of one word – “miraculous”. Here it is, without any loss of the reality of all the outer world can be, a place of miracles. Somehow any remaining struggles: those with health, with the need to belong and connect with the outer world, all seem lessened in enormity by the contact with this world of air, earth, water and autumn leaves on fire.
Today, I have the blessed opportunity to attend a workshop on self-publishing, including a trade show, which promises to expose me to all the options and information that any newly transplanted “writer” could hope for. I once read that the definition of a writer is one who writes. By that definition, I am at last what I longed to be, since I struggled to hide my words at the age of fourteen. Only now, there is no hiding. I feel the unsurety, the destructive force of the shifting ground, but I am to go out and pass amongst those whom I once revered as more worthy than me, but now (without any pride) those whom I sense are my equals. For we are all human, and we have all suffered. Our delight (and responsibility) is to write about it.
I have left the safety of the bank. I can experience the deep waters, I can return to the shallows and I can languish in between. That freedom is mine, no matter how small the time apportioned me, I feel it now in my soul. In this attic room with a view of mountains, geese, trees, lunar eclipses and the breath of sea, I am free. I have found my sanctuary, and it is miraculous.