Writing Is Like Tea...

E (the lady in whose basement I live) asked me today if I had ever written a book. When I told her "no" she said that surprised her. That I just seemed the kind of person who would write a book. Then I said, "Writing is like tea."


Here's what I mean. Tea. I have always wanted to be a tea-drinker...because it sounds cool and fancy and...sophisticated. "Can I get you something to drink?" "Yes, I'll have some tea." Sounds silly, I know...but there it is. Tea is ancient and ceremonial. It is mysterious. When you are served "tea", you not only receive a cup but a saucer as well and not just any cup and saucer but expensive, fragile ones that you can only hold properly if you stick your pinky finger in the air and that make dainty, tinkling sounds when you use them. "Tea" also comes with cookies, and scones and bite-sized sandwiches with no crust. Tea is not just something to drink, it is a whole separate culture...

And it is serious...

...and mature. As evidenced by generations of children--desiring to be "all grown-up"--dressing up and having "tea parties."



But here's the thing...having said all that...tea tastes terrible.

I keep trying it because they lure me in with those exotic names and spicy aromas...but everytime I think...BLAAEEHHCK! (or something close to that.)



I want to like tea...but I don't like tea.



Now writing. I have always wanted to be a writer...because it seems cool and intelligent and...sophisticated. "What do you like to do in your spare time?" "I write. Journal. Blog..." And again...I am fully aware of the oddity of this. But think of all the knowledge we have thanks to writers. Not just professional authors of books but young and old, educated and...not, intentional and incidental writers of diaries, journals, notes, letters, stories, memoirs, speeches, poems and songs. Writers are able to use words to convey concepts and ideas, feelings, pictures... They routinely reveal mysteries, increase options, heighten awareness, encourage growth, motivate actions and broaden imaginations.

And again...having said all that...I'm just not a good writer.

I keep trying it because they lure me in with fancy journals with gorgeous covers and hand-made paper or gilded pages (or with new templates for blogging...). Then I get half-way through and I think, "WHAT am I doing???" This frustrates me immensely because I am a really good storyteller...but writing the stories down is much harder.

I want to write...I'm just not very good at it.

BUT...I will keep trying.

Thinking About Home...

On this day, last year, I was home.


After 8 years of living on the East Coast, I went home to Washington state for the summer. Many people have told me that I have lived out here long enough to start calling Maryland my home and, in some regards, that may be true.

I have a great job...great friends...
This is a great place to travel and take pictures...
...however...


The home of my soul is...and always will be the Pacific Northwest.


See, it might be different if I were just homesick. If I just missed my family and friends. A particular city. A certain coffee house. That one special thing that you can only get in that one special place.

But what I feel goes deeper than that. I don't just miss people, places or things...I miss a way of life. My entire being yearns for this way of living life. A way of life that involves elements that are non-descript and unspectacular on their own...elements that can be found just about everywhere...yet when combined produce a result, a manner...a rhythm that is distinctly exclusive to the Pacific Northwest. My heart beats to this rhythm. But this rhythm (and hence my heart) is very much out-of-sync in the place I now find myself. And there are days, like today, where it seems as though I am clinging to the rhythm of my heart as the frantic pace of life threatens to overwhelm me with it's powerful flood. As it hurls to-do lists, project deadlines, appointments...waves of busyness laced with futility and the occasional flash of panic...

What I need is a good pair of ruby slippers...