I was in California last week. I know, those of you who live in northern climates are not impressed that I would use the excuse of being in a warm, tropical place to not get writing done. And, those of you who live in warmer climes can’t figure out why this could be an excuse for not writing. Well, I spent the weekend communing with nature at a little place called Newport Beach – toes in the sand, ocean to my hips, sun on my face, breeze in my hair – and indulging my inner child (who really isn’t that ‘inner’) at Disneyland. Being at the beach inspired some poetry; which was bound to happen, being in a beautiful and inspiring place is sure to bring out the poet in anyone. I did get my reading assignments done and I am keeping up with my weekly writing assignments. I just have to really get to work on those bigger assignments. And, being in California made me realize that. I was there for a work-related conference and I learned a lot. I brought home a lot of good ideas and new understandings that will benefit my job and, I think, my institution. However, what became perfectly clear to me is that I am not my job – I like my job very much, I’m well suited to it, but I know it isn’t my calling. I am a writer. I am moved by the idea and power of narrative. I believe that telling our stories and hearing stories is one of the most powerful tools humans have to build compassion and understanding; to pass knowledge and culture to future generations; to become better, more connected human beings. I must make more time to tell stories and write stories and hear stories. I am excited about where my life is heading. And, I’ll tell you that story as it unfolds.
Be Lovely to Each Other,