Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

Since Sunday I've been in a new place, alone. I have a room to myself in an old southern house that the owner has opened up to those who wish to spend all their time writing. Across the hall is another woman, a poet. We just spent the last two hours fixing dinner, eating dinner, and talking. She's a beautiful person, and I feel blessed that she has become a part of my life. For a couple of months now I looked forward to being here. Today, being here in an old house that has sheltered many writers before me and is now sheltering two fledgeling writers, I know this is exactly where I'm supposed to be. The past three days have been filled with writing. New Friend and I found out only a year separates our ages, though to be honest, she looks so young. I thought she was at most 30 years old. I think her yoga practice and her meditation have served her well. I am most definitely going to look into beginning both when I return home. I have learned so much from her in only three da...

Just tidying things up at this point--finishing portfolios, calculating grades, and cleaning off my desk. I'm happy to see this semester end and am ready to begin the summer session, for I have new ideas I want to try out. I also will have more time to work on the sports literature class I want to teach in spring 2011. Best of all, I will be leaving in a week to spend seven glorious days at a writer's retreat, working on my manuscript. The funk I've been wallowing in is beginning to lift with each day that gets me closer to the writer's retreat. I need to write. The ideas, the words, and the images have been building, filling me to the point of bursting. Meeting with a friend on Fridays the past few weeks has helped channel the energy, but having time to actually put this energy onto the page hasn't happened. Frustration has built. I know, though, in a week I can pack and set off on my writing adventure.