Reader, I’m back. But I’m not back. I’m on that strange fence of re-entry. The place where you keep looking one way wondering where you’re going, and then looking the other way wondering where you’ve been.
(By the way, if you don’t know the story Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been by Joyce Carol Oates, it’s so, so good, so read it sometime. I’m lucky in that my options for where I’m going look better than Connie’s in the story).
So, yeah, I’m back from my writing retreat and it was great and I have lots to share from it. But today I’m just standing around, looking backward and forward. Time away can do that for you — it becomes a natural caesura of before and after. Not that anything life-changing happened at the retreat, but that, actually, yes something life-changing happened: just that I had some time and space to pause in my life as a writer, to regroup, to look behind and ahead.
Not that I can fully know the full view in either direction, but that there’s time to consider, look for hints, be grateful, be wiser, be hopeful.
In case you can’t tell I’ve got a severe case of Post-Writing Retreat Altered State of Consciousness (PWRASOC) going on.
So, while I walk along my fence, arms out for balance, looking one way and another, I’ll leave you with this very cool thought from a VFP (that’s Very Famous Poet) at the retreat:
Poets say the un-sayable and can do it without saying it. That’s why we’re poets. It’s in the details where we can understand the un-sayable, if we can understand it at all.
I’ll be back this week with tidbits from the retreat — stuff I learned and stuff I wonder about. I haven’t forgotten about organdization; we’ll get to that soon, too. Meanwhile, I hope your view of where you’re going and where you’ve been looks rich in both directions.