Sitka Day 20: The Space

Some days this work feels as simple as an
honest calculation. You wake, you stretch, you drink coffee. Then the mind joins
words into sentences, like winter’s gently accumulating snow drifts. First one
flake, then another, then a flurry of movement like insight and sigh–the settling.
is a gift to know this rhythm of the writing life and to have worked with it in
so many tremendous landscapes these past 25 months. No place is like
another, yet the discipline of writing stays with me like a pulse wherever I
travel. I have found the space where I am not separate from the work that I do,
and that space is endless. Each day dawns like an invitation, each night
humbles with its unknowns.
life always been so vast? Looking across Sitka Sound, it’s easy to think so.

Showing 2 comments
  • Rocky Cole

    What a simple and beautiful post. A poem, really. Was it meant to be?

    But then your entire life is a poem, Katey Schultz.

  • Mary Kay Zuravleff

    I love this post up one side and down the other. I think snowflakes may be my new interior metaphor for words–your observation about their slow accumulation but also that some stick and others don't. Write on, friend!

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