Saturday, October 9

warp and weft

{washington park arboretum, seattle}

When I travel alone, I like to find where I find myself.

I take care of basics so I'm warm, fed, have a place to sleep, etc... and then the rest is all up in the air. I float around, and pick up things and sew them into my journal. I listen to my gut and try to find my balance. I pay attention to my sense of intuition and curiosity. This often feels different than how I am at home.

Which is why I like to travel. As I've gotten older, I struggle less with the feeling that I have to do it all. I gravitate towards what really calls to me, which on this trip was a bouquet of arboretums, japanese gardens, used bookstores and especially the Portland Art Museum solely for their Native American collection (I looked at nothing else), with a sprinkling of unexpected shopping and a few hours each day at a cafe to gather my thoughts and mellow out.

I love going away from home ~ gathering, gleaning ~ and just feeling like life is exciting and juicy. It's a time for collecting and observing, and then when I get home it's time for rediscoveries and reconfiguring.

I always bring a passel of books when I travel (thin paperbacks if possible) ~ ones that are a little more thought-provoking and nourishing than usual. This time, among others, I brought Daybook: Journal of an Artist, by Anne Truitt. I ended up turning down almost each page's corner with a feeling of astonishment.

[artists]... are like riders who gallop into the night, eagerly leaning on their horse's neck, peering into a blinding rain.

and:

...for me, this process is mysterious. It's like not knowing where you're going but knowing how to get there.

So now as I sit here with a dog on my foot and a bursting journal, I get to enjoy the details of my life at home (electric kettle, I missed you) and also weave some of my gleanings from my trip into my home life.

{sand and stone garden, japanese garden, portland}




{japanese garden, portland}

{HI hostel, seattle}