“It doesn’t rain at the end of July, the forecast is wrong. My motorcycle trip to the coast won’t be cancelled.” I declared one beautiful sunny day.
“Okay, well yes it’s raining, but it’ll stop – it is July.”
Mike stared at me in silence.
Are Norwegian’s more stubborn that Swede’s? Ah who knows, I laugh at such things.
We put our rain gear on in silence and rode out into it. My open-face half helmet allowed the drops to hit me with a blinding sting. Twenty minutes later we stopped to buy a better helmet at the Harley Davidson shop in Tacoma.
“You riding in that?” asked the pretty cashier.
“Oh – really? Be careful!”
After the monsoon experience on Interstate 5 we stopped at a Barbecue Restaurant to warm up, eat and pour out our boots. No one said anything – everyone looked.
“It’ll let up, has to” I laughed.
“Sure, it’s gonna” Mike laughed back.
After the winding roads and fresh tarred construction we stopped for a beer at a Peninsula Dive Bar.
“Cheers to stubborn!”
As always I learned while enjoying the “Rain” writing workshop at the Fort George Brewery on January 23rd 2015.
Matt Love lives and teaches in Astoria, Oregon.
I chose Happy.
A couple of years ago I saw a blog post (sorry I lost track of the source) promoting the idea of selecting a word for the upcoming year. Despite never embracing the practice of making New Year’s resolutions, this annual fresh start appealed to me. I liked the idea so much that I went back a few years to give them a word and then started. Basically you pick a word that represents what you want, need or hope for the year. It can be a wish, goal, dream, etc. whatever appeals to you.
I keep the list on a wall in my office where it can stare at me and catch my eye on occasion.
2011 – Write
2012 – Survive
2013 – Rebuild
2014 – Blissful
2015 – Prosperous
2016 – Balance
2017 – Happy
2018 – Energized
This year when I added the new word I took a closer look at my list. The first ones were accurate thanks to hindsight but the rest seemed off a little. As I focused on this it occurred to me that they seem to take shape more clearly, after the year is over and even well into the next.
Is it some kind of time-release power of a word?
What’s your word?
Patiently held in time.
A Bed and Breakfast lives nestled against guardian trees – near a water’s edge.
Agelessly creaking as feet move through and pause.
Themed rooms reflect different light, casting moments.
Old world escapes the kitchen, changing fireplace air.
Refining pieces and capturing thoughts; quietly the compulsion unfolds.
I just attended my third consecutive Write on the Sound writer’s conference in Edmonds, Washington. These gatherings always bombard me with new thoughts and ideas while stirring up my mind. The conference mental rush undoubtedly causes plenty of thought, the trick is to get some to flow out of the hand and onto the page. One of my chosen sessions started with three writing prompts (none of which did anything for me, so I wandered off on my own a little).
I often lay awake recalling how good it used to be.
The days back in time when with no effort, no thought, nothing – it just happened.
At the end of a day I could just turn on the radio, lay down and drift away… for hours.
Very different from my current life – I could stay asleep.
The question comes up, “Do writing conference’s help you become a better writer?”
For me sharing time with others interested in learning about writing, from other writers, charges a battery (that for many years I didn’t know that I had). So as long these gatherings stir something in me I’ll go, as for becoming a better writer – who knows?
“Hey there”, she said after our common friend introduced us. I went from sipping a beer and people watching at Doc’s Tavern (minding my normal – alone business) to shaking hands with Christa. A sparkle in her eyes showed me something unexpectedly bright in the otherwise dark familiar place. A couple of rounds and few slow songs later – things changed. The lies that I had told myself about destiny and being alone, walls that time built to lean against and pretend, the words “Not for me” said out loud as if to protect. Dissolved. She stole them all with one kiss.
When conversations not yet had
Let others Down
Becoming – Missteps
Feelings get Tarnished
Born December 8, 1965 in Jamestown, North Dakota the only child of Esther and Stan Goffe. Raised in Enumclaw, Washington by schoolteacher parents gave a solid start – blending mid-west values with small town growth.
Being a bit of a traveller and seeker it was often easier to question than accept.
Surviving a taste for adrenaline and gravitational pull from the wilder side, eventually settling down in the Seattle area.
Learning about the gifts of life from daughter Heather and her journey.
Sharing eclectic experiences with several great friends, many special acquaintances and a few wild characters.
Enjoying the path with a special dog proved to be life changing.
Life was rich.
I liked the idea of becoming a kind of Renaissance Man.
Hopefully I achieved this on some level, before I left.
“If you don’t take their money, they can’t tell you what to do. That’s the secret!” –Bill Cunningham