It rained when I was in Maine.
Just briefly. Nothing torrential or dramatic or tree-downing, but it rained. And the world was quiet. And I sat in a chair and read a book. Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg. It's dated, for sure, but several friends recommended it, so I'm giving it a go.
So it was quiet, and I read, and it rained, and I took a walk. And all of this may seem very mundane, but I've got to tell you, it was momentous given the chaotic state of these past few weeks. Everything is good, wonderfully good, but that quiet hour fed me like a bowl of warm soup.
I'm home now, scrambling to catch up, and the hours slip and slide. Head down, keyboard out, shoes off, back hunched, I type until my wrists ache. I'm grateful, if addled, in this state of overwhelm, a state welcome and unnerving, familiar and exotic.
I close my eyes.
I hear birds.
Remember the quiet, they trill, softly.
It will return.
And you'll wish, once again, for the thunder of today.
Recipe for Avocado with kumquats and walnut oil
When I have no time to fix a proper meal, I fake it by combining two or three things. I take my plate outside and turn my face towards the sun. Just 5 minutes of peace, 5 minutes of fresh air, 5 minutes of sky, and I'm ready to return to my desk.
Handful of kumquats, sliced
Eat slowly, outside.
Come see me in June in California and Seattle. Here's where.