I was in San Francisco for a little more than two days. I saw two of my dear friends there. They poured their loving balms upon my soul. I had a strong sense of safety in that big city with my friends by my side, something I thought I would never feel there. I laughed a lot. I tangled my hair in the coastal wind. I sipped on gin. I smiled at some chickens. I basked in the glow of Napa and Sonoma at golden hour. I can’t wait to return. I can’t wait to go back. That’s the honest truth.
I am at home now, at the strawbale house, for a little more than twenty-four hours before I leave on a river trip for the better part of week. I have that too-taut feeling of being completely out of my creative routine but I’m ignoring it and doing my best to go with the flow. I know as soon as I am adrift on the river, under a wide sky, I’ll have a sense of expansion and space in my heart again and I can hardly wait.
Until we meet again,