My first seeing

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I camped in the upper peninsula of Michigan with my parents during the summer I was three. To get to our campsite we drove down a long dirt road, ending up at a clearing on the shore of a lake where there was no one else and nothing but a narrow dock, a rowboat, an outhouse, and trees.

We slept in the canvas tent my dad used for deer hunting, a tent without a floor, and flaps at the front that tied closed. The tent smelled of mildew, and at night our cots creaked when we moved. Continue reading “My first seeing”

A Fortress for the creative self

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In the book “A House of my Own” by Sandra Cisneros, she writes: “At sixty I want a house pared down to what nourishes my spirit.”

Also: “What I’ve longed for is a refuge as spiritual as a monastery, as private as a cloistered convent… a fortress for the creative self.”

I read these words recently and identified strongly with them. Continue reading “A Fortress for the creative self”

Book Lovers Lament

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While we are having some repair work done in our home office, I have temporarily moved my books to various locations around the house, leading me to wonder, once again, why I continue to own so many, especially considering how often we move.

I am a constant reader of books, but it’s not just their content I enjoy. I am a fan of books themselves. The actual objects.  I love holding books in my hands, feeling the weight and texture of them, touching the paper pages, and riffling them with my thumb. 

I enjoy studying the front and back covers of books, appreciating the design that has gone into creating them. Artful cover designs are one of the pleasurable things about owning a collection of books. I might not ever reread my books, but I will certainly look at them from time to time. Continue reading “Book Lovers Lament”