Oh spring — a time for renewal. I’m finally (mostly) home from book tour, and I’ve been taking a little break from the grind to breathe in and focus my attention on things that replenish my creative energy and make me feel connected and fully present in my place.
Perhaps the most soul-nourishing thing I’ve done is launch a new podcast with the poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, who is also one of my best friends. Emerging Form is a podcast about the creative process, and it’s given my own creative spirit a boost. The podcast is an excuse to stay up late drinking wine and exchanging stories about the creative life with Rosemerry and some interesting guests. It’s a passion project with no external expectations or constraints, and it’s been energizing to create something new that’s just for fun. The podcast feels a lot like this blog — a creative habit that feeds my muse and releases me from feelings of obligation.
I’ve also been spending a lot of time outside. Yesterday I passed some of the afternoon standing underneath one of our apricot trees, just taking in the fragrance of the blossoms and listening to the sound of pollinators buzzing around, doing their jobs. There’s something incredibly comforting about witnessing nature proceeding without human intervention. We’re less important than we believe.
Still, we’re here and we need to eat, so this week I planted a bunch of garden beds — onions, leeks, broccoli, cabbage and various other greens. Digging my hands into the soil gave me a visceral connection to my garden that will reward me at harvest time. Nothing is more delicious than food seasoned with your own toil.
Mostly I’ve been paying attention. Running through the woods around my house, I’ve been feeling the softness of the forest floor, taking in the aroma of pinyon and juniper and listening to the sound of sandhill cranes flying in formation overhead. I’ve interrupted my morning walks to pick the wild onions sprouting up among the pine needles. Last week while riding my bike along a farmer’s pasture, a stunning red fox ran alongside me for a while. When I stopped to get a closer look, the fox stood motionless for a few moments, then went on its way. None of this is particularly remarkable — it’s how life proceeds in my habitat — but it makes me feel more at home here when I stop to take notice.
Beautiful piece/peace.
Since I don’t use twitter or much other social media I am taking this opportunity to say I enjoyed your book “Good to Go” and I wonder if you happened to see the 4/11/19 USA newspaper with an article in the “Money” section highlighting some of the “gadgets” on which you looked behind the curtain for truth or hyperbole. In any event, I have been happy to discover that most younger people either working toward or as a fitness professional have bought into your findings either knowingly or unwittingly. I will now get to your blog from time to time to follow how you also embrace the joys that life has to give beyond one’s career.