Autumn Turn

I love road trips. Unlike flying in commercial aircraft, (which to me is akin to being enclosed in a Thermos bottle- vacuum sealed and with no true connection to place or the space between places) navigating the roads and exchanging with beings along the way is liberating and enlivening.

Danny Kaye said that, "... to travel is to take a journey into yourself", and it is so.

This week, after a sixteen hundred and some odd mile trek, I find myself under a vast sky that seems to me to invite promise; abreast mountains which encourage my resourcefulness; beside rivers that run so cold and so fast that I am encouraged to, as my grandmother would say, "Keep my wits about me".

Examined or unexamined, a life moves swiftly, and, yes, sometimes cold, but greater respect for, and interaction with nature keeps this wanderer untroubled. By both looking up, looking out, and connecting to people and places with an unaffected exuberance, I find the swiftness dulled and any lingering "cold" banished.


August 2014

Lately I've been off track, but on the path, and off-roading, but not in a motorized conveyance. From ​T​he Tetons to the Lake Superior shore it has been time spent in less urban surrounds.

The call of the wild, in the non-fictional sense, is what stills the ground beneath me and quiets the drone.

Please, enjoy your remaining summer experience and look for METAL's September Newsletter.

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During this Winter of Vortices I have been particularly drawn into the whorl (that warmer, interior one) and found some happy-making touchstones. A few of my recent visitations are included in the above links.

Maybe it has been my Winter of Women (I found myself revisiting Anais Nin, Patti Smith, Lorraine Hansberry and discovering Sondra Barrett’s, “Secrets of Your Cells”). Maybe my antipathy to the Michigan winter has me ‘retuning to the womb’: a creative, expressive, hope of spring? Maybe, when I don my hat as businesswoman or artist, I am at heart a sort of metaphysical archaeologist. I root around and then put things together.

The mutations of muse, as I am calling it, one being’s inspiration introduced to another’s, is a delicious feeling for me. One of the reasons that I came to dislike school, and couldn’t distance myself quickly enough from a classroom, was the absence of an organic experience of discovery.

Foraging has its bounties—as does a period of hibernation and transmutation.