together on that ship

I spent the past week in the Pacific Northwest, visiting my friend Shea and some family living in Washington. I don't think I realized just how much my mind and spirit needed not only a vacation, but some beautifully isolated time with nature, my thoughts, and people I love. I found myself reminded of some of Robert Pirsig's thoughts from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, a fantastic book which truly altered the course of my life and I encourage any and all to read. At any rate. He says, " The only Zen you can find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there." Suffice it to say, I uncovered plenty of zen this trip, looking out onto still blue water and clear mountains, San Juan Islands, and strips of sand filled with shards of beach glass for Shea to collect.

While on Orcas Island Shea took me into Darvill's, her favorite bookstore. We spent a lot of time in book stores. I am truly weak in the presence of those things. I picked up a copy of Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. I'd heard various reports of the book over the years and while in college a professor recommended the work on several occasions. The book is about writing and being a successful writer; we all know I struggle with even calling myself such a thing and I think for years I'd felt like I wasn't allowed to read Lamott's work. Because I didn't consider myself a writer. What a fool I was. I purchased the book at Darvill's, the quaint local book store, which in itself is an act I can feel good about. And I began reading a work that has come to me at the most ideal moment in my life... as I'm caught up with my own words, sorting out thoughts and ideals and my own book (If I can really call it that). Yet Lamott's instructions are not merely ones for writing but for life as well.

I came across this passage the other day and had to share:

"Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It's like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can't stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship."


And while I'm slightly saddened to be back East and back home, I'm happy to have found my zen and found these words. Maybe now I can take a few literary steps forward, with a little more confidence and a little more calm.

Musical Aside:

A friend introduced me to Blitzen Trapper. If you take a road trip through the fields and farms and mountains of the San Juans, you must play this song with the windows down. And if not, you must still play it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqtlcHiSHTE