But standing right there on Monhegan it felt as though I experienced something of a quiet shift to that old personal journey: one in which I remembered to take pleasure, to be soft, to seek and find beauty, to laugh more, to create.
And that is what Maine was and will always be for me: the moment when despair turned into hope.
And yet a few hearty souls have stood by me and it is they who are showing me a path to deeper love. It’s not easy, as you who have traveled there already know.
We were FINALLY able to pull away from Snow Canyon State Park in southern Utah and I felt as though I’d been set free from whatever hold the desert had over me.
A friend recently wrote this to me, “… as you ponder the meaning of life, don’t forget to factor in the meaning that you yourself make.” And there it is: Every single one of us has a place. We each and every one of us have an effect. I am certain. And that cannot be insignificant.
When I look back at this, now, I wonder that I was ever so certain. It stands in such stark contrast to my current pessimism. But I was positive. Enough to get me to leave my home of eight years in Utah, to buy land in a state I’d only visited once and to build a new home and a new life on my own in New Mexico.
… listening to birdsong as I hang out the laundry (the larks are back and nesting, mapping out their territories in song, so it is particularly splendid right now), the toads croaking their hearts out in the little acequia that runs through my land…