Today was a nice day. Simple as that. Very little Sun but warm nonetheless. I did most of my writing on the deck, overlooking the river. The unseasonable weather brought a chipmunk from its winter hiding place, finches whippoorwilling, birdsongs rang out from invisible fowl through this bowl of land we call the OAC.
I overate (but it was worth it); tended to my full stomach with ginger and lemon tea. I made ramen–not the cheap kind; I’m experimenting with my own broths. It’s become quite a small joy.
I finished Tom Robbins’ eighth and final novel, Villa Incognito–which I’ll honestly say was among his very best. And, spurred on by the good read and the spiritous day, I wrote some lovely and lively passages in my novel. I believe I’m now on the verge of a breakthrough–hoping the river flows smoothly from here.
The research is going well too. I’m learning a lot about Hawaii–even though the more I learn, the more I yearn to go there. It’s been percolating in my mind for years now. I’m learning a lot, too, about the advent of the Atlantic Slave Trade; how whole communities were decimated by colonial powers and African intervention. I’m learning about rebellions. About music. About the Earth.
The ideas are coming together now; congealing into something altogether mystical. Finally I feel, after ten months of hard work, the Cosmic Quartet is crystallizing. Oh! And I also met with Jessie, the other girl on residency here. She writes magical realism–very well, I might add. I met with her to discuss co-hosting a women writer’s retreat at the OAC, a conference with the main goal of examining intersectionality as it relates to the progression of literature in America. We plan to accept writers of every medium–poets, fabulists, ethnographers, sociologists, playwrights. The hope is that we can attract lecturers for each day of the retreat. I want to build here. And we have the resources and the support to do so.
I’m starting to dream bigger. I’m starting to envision a larger life, more deeply connected to my greater communities, using my resources, power, and privilege to create real and lasting change. That’s what I want for this life of mine–to uplift the arts, to empower the marginalized and raise their voices, to build communities whose values and legacies will last far into the future.
I can feel my life changing out here. Whatever lies on the horizon, I welcome it with open arms and wide eyes. I’m excited for what’s to come.
Tomorrow I’m going with Mark, the Exec Director, to his weekly Intender’s Circle–a group of people who get together in a collective setting to put energy toward manifesting their dreams, both practical and long term. It will be good since Jessie and Alyce the Ceramicist and I began an Intender’s Circle of our own last Wednesday (we kicked it off with a three-person dance party at the Arts Center in town). There was wine and cheese and Alyce made potatoes. And we discussed our visions over held hands and sporadic giggles. To finish, we intoned harmoniously with each other. Brought some real juju into the space; some real magic. The air was alight with a supernal tingle.
Everything here is, really. I’m going to spend the spring here, I think. Allow myself to finish the Quartet. It deserves my full attention. After all, this is my passion, my purpose, my vision, and my mission we’re talking about. This is serious. A laughing matter.
It deserves belly laughs, intense focus, pushing the envelope out where it belongs. And in the process I intend to transform my life to more closely resemble my dreams. They are not far off; they are right here, in the palm of my hand. The only question is, what does it look like?