One of the things that happened on my vacation was that I got back in touch with my creative side.
I wrote blog entries by hand (which will be posted), I wrote poems, I jotted notes for my novels. It was like this swelling of creativity. I loved it and I hope to keep up with it, even if I have to build in retreat time from the day to day.
Part of this was staying at Bed and Breakfasts. One we stayed at, had this incredible little writing desk with a killer view.
(I hope the picture came to the blog correctly, this is my first time adding a picture.)
Here's the poem I wrote
There is beauty in the mountains
There is beauty in the mountains.
summits
nadirs
They resemble all of life's possibilities.
Climbing them is not an easy task.
Nor is it one for the faint of heart.
There are sharp curves where you cannot
see
what
lies ahead.
Disaster?
or a view
So spellbinding
That your breath is ripped from your lungs.
The beauty is almost as frightening as the danger.
Is it possible to hit the top
without slogging your way through the bottom?
Sacrificing security for uncertainty.
I don't believe it is possible to just live seeing only
the beautiful.
Mountaintops exist
so we can climb them.
The climb exists
so we get dirty, smelly,
soiled.
We question the wisdom of embarking at all.
We meet strangers along the way.
They've climbed before.
They encourage us.
They say it wasn't so hard.
But our climb is different.
And they know that.
And once we've reached the top,
We breathe the clean air
Tinged with our own sweaty smell
And we exult
And we see how far we've come.
And we search for the next mountain to climb.
--Journeywoman
August 2007
(here is the view I saw when I wrote this)
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