Wednesday morning was difficult for many, including me and the other three writers staying at the Wellstone Center in the Redwoods this week. Just after 9 am that day, to help clear our minds, we embarked on a one-hour hike through the trail just behind the center...
As we wound through the old, towering trees, climbing up and down the small inclines along the trail, we tried to steer our conversation away from politics. We also stopped to enjoy the scenery when it inspired us, especially taking notice of scattered rays of light streaming through the trees. It was exactly what we needed that morning, and exactly why I think we all came to the writing center -- to disconnect from our everyday lives, reconnect with our inner selves, and re-ignite our creativity and dare I say faith -- faith not only in the creative process but, as it turns out, in humanity as well.
The trees along the trail and the accompanying inspiration reminded me of the picture book Deer Dancer by Mary Lyn Ray and Lauren Stringer, which I brought with me to the writing center in hopes that I would find a good place and time to blog about it. There couldn't be a better place and time than here and now.
There's a place I go that's
green and grass,
a place I thought that no one knew --
As you can see from the very poetic, opening lines of the book, the main character has a special place she likes to go for solitude -- a place not unlike the trail we hiked on Wednesday. And, as we found inspiration in the light shining through the trees on the trail, the little girl finds inspiration from a chance encounter with a deer...
I stayed still
as he came nearer, nearer
until he was so close
I could almost have touched him.
He looked at me. I looked at him.
As the book continues, we follow the girl to her ballet class and then back out to the special place where she first saw the deer. The deer returns, and the girl watches the way it lowers its antlers, grazes, and leaps and turns around her. Remembering how her dance teacher had told her to "hold your head as if you're wearing antlers," "listen with your cheekbones," and "look with the eyes in your shoulders," the girl responds to the deer's movements over and over. When the deer finally leaves, the girl realizes she had gotten lost in the inspiration the deer provided and found her own dance. The creative process had prevailed!
I hope that this week and in the coming weeks and months we can all find inspiration, and that we can re-ignite our faith -- faith not only in the creative process but, as it turns out, in humanity as well.