Update

Lots going on, no time to write.

Gone Retreat'n

Closed til Sunday.

Why I Write

Just read an essay called "Landscape and Narrative" by Barry Lopez. He makes some points that ring true. Thank you Mr. Lopez for helping me realize why I write, and what I like about what I consider to be good writing.

"The landscape seemed alive because of the stories… The stories had renewed in me a sense of the purpose of my life."

"This feeling, an inexplicable renewal of enthusiasm after storytelling, is familiar to many people. It does not seem to matter greatly what the subject is, as long as the context is intimate and the story is told for its own sake, not forced to serve merely as the vehicle for an idea... intimacy is indispensable -- a feeling that derives from the listener's trust and a storyteller's certain knowledge of his subject and regard for his audience."

"These are the elements of the land, and what makes the landscape comprehensible are the relationships between them. One learns a landscape… by perceiving the relationships in it…"

"… the shape of the individual mind is affected by land as it is by genes."

"Among the Navaho and, as far as I know, many other native peoples the land is thought to exhibit a sacred order."

"We are more accustomed now to thinking of "the truth" as something that can be explicitly stated, rather than as something that can be evoked in a metaphorical way outside science and Occidental culture. Neither can truth be reduced to aphorism or
formulas. It is something alive and unpronounceable. Story creates an atmosphere in which it becomes discernable as a pattern."

"I think of the dignity that is ours when we cease to demand the truth and realize that the best we can have of those substantial truths that guide our lives is metaphorical--a story. And the most of it we are likely to discern comes only when we accord one another (respect)…"

"Beyond this--that the interior landscape is a metaphorical representation of the exterior landscape, that the truth reveals itself most fully not in dogma but in paradox, irony, and contradictions that distinguish compelling narratives--beyond this there are only failures of imagination: reductionism in science; fundamentalism in religion; fascism in politics."

Barry Holstun Lopez, "Landscape and Narrative" from Crossing Open Ground. (C) 1988 by Barry Holstun Lopez. (Read in "Imaginative Writing: The Elements of Craft" by Janet Burroway)

Part 5: First Day of My Life

The trip is going great. The songs are changing exactly when I change roads. It would be eerie if I had not already come to grips with synchronicity. The radio plays “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon Five, and it plays as I am driving through a less attractive area of the City of Mesa. By less attractive, I mean ugly. Cities can be aesthetically pleasing but not have soul, or they can be ugly while having mucho soul. This stretch of car dealerships, convenience stores, strip malls, telephone wires, and concrete had neither looks nor soul. Pinnacle Peak loomed far ahead, choking in a hot smoggy haze.

I got to thinking, "what gives an area soul?" The first thing that comes to mind is people, and the places where people gather. Just then, a restaurant I have wanted to try called Blue Adobe Grill passes my left window. "That restaurant looks like it has soul." A Carneceria calls on the right. Mesa is redeeming itself. Bob Marley gets on the Radio and sings One Love, reminding me not to be so damned judgemental.

As I drive with the flow of traffic, I compliment myself on my ability to drive long distances without having to brake. It is the art of coasting.

Over the dry Salt River bed and I am now on the Beeline highway. I am not familiar with it, and each bend in the road is a dance with the unknown. Alanis sings You Learn.

The Pima Indian Reservation exchanges concrete boxes for scattered Saguaro, and I am snapping photos while driving. The Saguaro cactus can only be found in the Sonoran Desert, the corner of the world I have called home over a combined 20 years. I think people love them so much because they remind us of ourselves, without the annoying habits of humanity. They are content to just be. They wave to me as I drive by. I see two standing in embrace, making love standing up.

Bright Eyes plays First Day of My Life and I am touched. A few lines jump out at me, and again, I am scribbling while driving.

And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you had just woke up
And you said "this is the first day of my life
I’m glad I didn't die before I met you
But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you
And I’d probably be happy"