Here’s to airplanes.
My mornings began with breakfast outside, then a long run on dirt-packed roads and through the modest city of Green Mountain Falls – elevation 7,800 feet. We ran past the post office, the lone church, biker bar, café, and police office (currently unoccupied, waiting for the one position to be filled). My dad and I hoofed the hills and tried to acclimate to the altitude, then met my mother and sister for brunch. This morning routine forced me to do something I seem to have forgotten how to do: sit and enjoy the scenery. And I enjoyed it.
Afternoons were spent hiking or tooling around the town, with a requisite allotment of time for me write – in longhand. I was amazed by the transformation I had from months of not being able to write freely to an absolute outpouring of songs and story beginnings by the end of the trip. Writing makes up so much of my profession, but I had to leave that profession behind to be able to rediscover the craft and my ability to be part of it.
I found that relaxation can be the best muse. My head cleared more and more with each day, and with each day my creativity and enjoyment of that side of me grew. Pressure left, creation arrived. Stress evaporated and stories appeared with ease.
One of the last things I wrote, on the cabin porch, was a list of learnings, goals and action items for me. I was able to see myself with amazing clarity, analyzing my true needs, desires and interests for what they were: mine. I am looking forward to executing this list of to-dos, and creating a reality more in line with the one I found when I left my own.