Wave tumbled. Sand scraped.

My jumbled up life

I’ve just returned from 6 weeks in Cuzco, Perú. I’m in that liminal space where I’m trying to reintegrate back into regular life, and it’s a bit of a bumpy ride.

Jumble of sea glass.

Shattered. Wave tumbled. Sand scraped.

Edges softened. Found.

On living a life

I’m back in my own bed
The birds outside my window singing
The sprinkler in the orchard at this early morning hour
Yet it isn’t that early where I’ve just been
Still not quite settled back into my home timezone.

Four flights, so many hours
Sleeping, not sleeping, as I fly and fly
Back to comfort of everyday life
Back to the known, the understood, the expected
Gone are the dreams of newness and adventure.

It is done. The memories and photos. That is what remains.
And the thoughts of what is next.

Report on my creative retreat

My goal had been to enjoy some adventures (√) while spending lots of time reading and writing, with a focus on a possible book project, in the vein of my primary Substack, The Travel Paradox.

I can report that progress has been minimal. I did not really establish any kind of writing rhythm or focus, and that my primary idea for my book project just didn’t gel. I’m not there yet.

I’m disappointed, of course. And a bit frustrated. But this is the way life goes sometimes.

Honestly, I allowed my focus to wander on to other things, and so success, as I originally defined it, became less likely.

So what is next for my writing project? I really don’t know. I’m doubting my whole premise. But that’s okay. I’ll let my mind wander through what remains of Spring, and then I’ll re-evaluate.

Today, I’ll watch the sun rise over the hillside on this early Saturday morning, and then I’ll walk to the lake for a think.

I’m just a piece of sea glass — Wave tumbled. Sand scraped.

JL Orr | Paradox & Sea Glass

Home base is the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia in Canada

Some of things I’ve loved on Substack this week

A Prayer for the Week

As I clean out the dead leaves and broken pots of winter

Let me find spring

Let me feel spring with my hands in soil, dirt under my fingernails

Let even the early bug bites, cuts and scrapes, and runny noses be refreshing

This is what it means to be alive, to labor, to bleed, to tidy, to plant

Let spring be my posture: steady and determined

Living in a wide range

Realistic and hopeful.

Beth Silvers, of Thoughts & Prayers

When is a Building More Than A Building?

Today I found a solitary tulip. Is it the first of the season, or maybe the last? I don’t know — I’ve been living in autumn, in the southern hemisphere; where everything is upside down, and I really don’t have a clue.