Arriving in Missouri

Blackberries from the trail

Today I arrived in Missouri, two weeks after my body landed. The woods are busy with unknown life that calls them home, but this day I’m not a guest. Perhaps it was the storm last night, perhaps the lease I signed, perhaps the finding of new friends and solitude. I go back to the mountains soon, but not to stay, at least not yet. Missouri has me.

My writing class reflects this centering as well. I have seen real possibilities and learned that there is craft to consider as well. For a while I was confused about blending craft and inspiration, leaned on craft…and lost my voice. Now the voice is back, I think, but better trained, a balance that will bob and weave as I continue. Having weathered similar steps in painting, its not an unfamiliar path, and I’m eager for the journey.

There are lots of challenges ahead:  time to write, many avenues to chase. My little short story is a chapter in a larger novel. I have a book laid out on personal changes that needs attention from this new perspective, and articles and assignments to write, concurrent with going to seminary, not an easy process in itself.

I’d love to write a book, with photos and sound, on the wildlife here in the woods.  Perhaps my western perspective helps; I find the rich variety new and strange, the sounds engaging. The bird calls here are unknown in the west, save for the robins and mockingbirds.  For instance, I’m still trying to identify a bird that sings “Ce-dar, ce-dar, ce-dar, quik, quik, quik, quik.” It’s a distinctly different sound from the energetic cardinal and mockingbird concerts. The bird is shy, hides in the treetops, and falls silent if I move. I’ve never seen it.

Perhaps that is indicative of where I am as well. I am pursuing something I cannot quite see, but the music calls from deep within my being.  Magic fills the air.