Connecting

[One-thousand thank you’s to the inventors of the pharmacy-grade mold-your-own night guards for those of us who grind our teeth. I woke up this morning for the first time in a week without a headache. I’m still in pain, but it’s significantly less than before. Here’s hoping the “unwinding” continues and I’m back to my normal, chill self by next week.]

It’s been a while since I walked the periphery of Green Lake or Duck Lake. I feel a little like a neglectful parent. They’re there for me always, waiting, reflecting back whatever I throw their way.  And yet somehow just knowing that isn’t enough. Even nodding to the west as I walk to dinner, thinking, What a nice sunset over the lake tonight, I can still feel the hungry pull of the lake. To look is never enough.

 [On stage at Kresge Auditorium, overlooking Green Lake]

To know something—to really let it enter your being and alter your path—you have to be willing to put the time in. Back home, I put the time in with Fork Mountain, Roan Mountain, the Black Mountains, and the AT. Here, I’ve invested in the lakes and the local culture. I’ve charted two seasons on the lakes, read local papers, studied social and ecological history, and tried to pay attention to the little things. I ask questions. I seek answers. I explore and try new things. All in service of the muse. It is a good life.