Thursday, January 14, 2010
Soapstone - 14 JAN 2010
So. This is it. My last day here at Soapstone. I leave tomorrow morning.
I'm struggling not to mourn my loss before I even leave. (I hate it when I do that!) Really, though, all I feel is joy.
I woke up this morning and looked out at the river a while.
I came downstairs and made some coffee, and built a fire.
I wrote up in the cube, looking down at the water and the woods.
What have I written, while I've been here? Well... I have sixty pages, now, of "The Year I Don't Remember." They're still in pretty messy shape. This play is deeply personal, and I don't really think I'm ready to do more with it yet. The other play I've been working on is called "Magellanica," and focusing on it has exploded all my previous notions; I think it's going to be bigger, bolder and more exciting (to work on, at least!) than I ever imagined. It's going to be FUN. I discovered the heart of the play here, and began to listen to its music, and to get a notion of its trajectory.
Words aren't the only thing I've found in these woods, though. I feel like I've found myself again, in a way.
The world gets so busy sometimes. All telephones and traffic. Much as I've enjoyed living in Los Angeles, it has a whole lot of both. I had gotten very tired. The concrete is overwhelming. Sometimes I had trouble hearing myself think.
A. and I had dinner together tonight. After two weeks of silence (she had wanted her time here to be one of silent meditation and writing), it was lovely to talk over our experience here. We both agreed that it took almost a week for us to settle in -- to use a term from Madeleine L'Engle's writing, to really deepen. It was only then that the writing really began to flow.
I have rested here. Does it make me sound crazy if I say it helped me remember how to breathe? I have walked amongst the trees and let their strength and solidity make me feel stronger, and more solidly rooted in this earth. I have lifted my face to the rain, and feel refreshed.
I have written.
I am happy.
Thank you to all the people who have created Soapstone, and who let me come here to live and work for two wonderful weeks. It has been a great gift. I will cherish the memory of it forever.