Crow’s Nest

I gave my writing group some of the rawest writing I’ve produced in a very long time. It was three scenes, loosely stitched together, detailing the original trauma of my childhood.

That event, and the aftermath (including how I found sanctuary in the woods) has been deeply life-defining, in ways I’m only now able to make sense of, 45 years later.

Every story I’ve written has been an attempt to understand who I am, and why I act and behave the way I do.

—

I will always feel safer in the wilderness, alone, than I ever will among people.

I will always need an escape hatch.

Taking the pup out on a little adventure to the local rose garden here in Portland was exactly what we both needed.

I keep finding myself looking for answers to my questions in books, in lessons from others, in ancient teachings and philosophies. What I miss, when my nose is buried in those pages, is the sense of present-tense wonder that can be found literally outside my door.

A year apart.

2025: preparing to leave the desert. 6 months sober. Feeling a mix of homesick and bold.