Answering the Call to Adventure

Back from my weekend of focused writing, and about all the writing I did was on this blog. The weekend wasn't a loss, though. I spent it focused on the craft of writing, the journey, the inner space.

I started reading The Hero's Journey, which starts with discussion of the call to adventure, which is precipitated by the wasteland. I've told my therapist for the past few months that I feel like I'm lying fallow, or like I'm drifting amid the rich, green silt at the bottom of a lake. I feel broken. Rather than staring at the blank page, I feel as though I am the blank page, empty, silent, not able to do anything but anticipate.

I passed four days of putting it out there, hoping that something would change and allow me to make some kind of a new beginning.

Two things happened.

First, I discovered that Leslie Marmon Silko has written a memoir, The Turquoise Ledge. I grabbed a copy and started reading immediately. Her writing, entering her world, bubbled to the surface some truths about the world that I carry but have never articulated. I love it when I read or hear something that does that for me. She talks about communicating with animals, that birds, snakes, rabbits, all communicate with us all the time. I have always known this to be true and have had many wonderful relationships with beings other than human. She also talks about how the spirit world communicates with us through animals and the elements of the world, clouds, the earth, wind. Reading this, I recalled an instance soon after my mother's death when an animal served as a messenger from the spirit world. Her writing gives me a sense of awakening.

Second, I was contacted by an old writer friend who reminded me of the good things about communing with other writers who have no agenda other than to gain sincere feedback on their writing and offer the same in return. I need to start doing that again and am hoping that he, I and one other writer can resume that connection.

Over all, I have to say that the writer's retreat was productive. Even though I didn't write, I feel supported, if not transported, by that mineral-rich current.