There are rocks… and then there are rocks. I’ve been thinking about rocks… and about maps… and about topography… about the lines that connect and guide… lines that lead forward and trail behind. Much of that will hopefully find its way into the next episode of the CMP–even as it informs a 2012 yearly project, one that will evolve and take shape month by month, but one that has origins in the symbolic nature of mapping. I always hate to spill my stories on the blog if they will be part of a podcast. You really don’t need to read/hear it twice, right? So I won’t over-explain the rocks here. But I also know that there are times when all I want to do, really, is curl up into the space of the blog and write my way out. I fear the words may be cast to the wind. I fear the words may have little meaning. I fear that because there are only slivers of me to go around that I have little worth sharing. And yet in writing, I know that I’ve taken action–moved. In such moments, the words are familiar and inviting. Maudlin thoughts, I think. But the rocks are good, the result of an unexpected discovery of a really beautiful spot to walk, to search, to simply be. (I am thankful that someone introduced us to this space–a free place to spend a few hours.)
I don’t always bounce out of pitfalls with grace, I know. And in between rock finding, I have let myself wallow in the fact that not everything turns out as we might wish, no matter how optimistically we go into it or how “due” for a change in luck, an upswell in the currents of fate, we might seem to be. Some of my wallowing took the form of poking around Amazon looking at new and want-to-see books. Here are a few that caught my eye–some of which, thankfully, I was able to put on reserve at the library.
When I am able to find the space within from which to create–I will have found the genesis of a new thread on the map. I know I have to embrace all that is, but there is such quiet around me.