A Writing Retreat
I'm on retreat in Sewanee, Tennessee. From this bench in the photo, I look out onto 3,000 acres of habitat-rich land—which contains portions of Lost and Champion Coves. I've been meditating on and writing about my own home soil, the cotton farm where I was raised in Central Louisiana. For a long time, I forgot that my life and my work do not spring from my mind. They spring from my body which holds my mind, and which in turn is held by the landscape. The more I love the land and let it love me, the less afraid I am. The less lonely. I grow relaxed and grateful.
Whatever went sideways in my life, it's made right again by being allowed to perch quietly and listen and watch and smell—and then return to my desk refreshed and ready to engage with sentences. One sentence at a time. One breath at a time.
I'm grateful to the Tennesse Land Trust—and all Land Trusts—for protecting land for the common good. And I'm especially grateful to the Writers Colony whose hospitality invites me to rest and create from this overlook where nature is my nurse.
Check out your local Land Trusts. They acknowledge and protect sacredness.