Just a quick update. I've finally put some music up on SoundCloud. You can listen here (https://soundcloud.com/erin-693486634). I'll be participating in a song of the month club and adding new songs as time passes. I got a microphone and guitar for Christmas, so more recording (hopefully better quality too...) is yet to come. I'll get back into my regular writing groove come mid-January after the holidays are over. Watch for a post about transition and change and living in between life phases in the next week or so. Also, a list of important books that I read this year will appear soon. Until then, check out this adorable photo of my nieces and nephews. Being around new life is probably one of the most refreshing and enlivening things I could do. Cheers and Happy Holidays! Love, Erin
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When the air is cold, its molecules become lonely, drifting apart from one another. This spaciousness makes room for razor sharp perception. It makes the night sky jump out of itself into a new kind of focus. Everything looks so sharp, so real that it becomes surreal, almost magical. Energy emanates through this clarity--breathing in such stillness feels like drinking a cup of coffee. It’s beautiful.
Last night I stepped outside, away from the coziness of dinner at a friend’s cabin, into one of the most precise evenings I’ve yet to see. It startled me. The Milky Way painted a cloudy streak between a spattering of stars. It was cold--the kind of cold where snot freezes in your nose; the kind of cold that makes space for you and your solitude. I’ve been here for over a month and the staunch beauty of winter surprises me daily. Yet, the dark is a bit heavy. I wake up at 8, and it feels like 4am, the moon still shining through the bedroom window. The sun barely rises above the tips of the snow-cloaked spruce these days, just skirting the horizon, casting a bit of deliciously pink and gold Alpenglow on the tower of Fireweed Mountain, and then dipping off to bed before 4pm. It makes you value the daylight so much more. I never want to sleep late for fear of missing a few of its rays. And, yes, it does infect your mood, especially when the weather is the sloshy mess that passed over a few days ago. But it also makes you value the night, like the story I just told of the stars and the clarity of air. I’m not sure I would even recognize those things without the pressing presence of nighttime. The value of the internal becomes prominent too, the other side of the coin. So these are the things that are difficult: little daylight, having to bundle up to use the outhouse when it’s still dark, keeping the cabin warm at night, hauling water, doing laundry by hand, siding an outhouse with a hand saw and a hammer, sticking to a routine, accomplishing as much as I want to, cross country skiing quickly, having to be creative in the kitchen for want of certain ingredients, keeping my feet and hands warm, missing activities and a change of scenery, driving a snow machine without being scared, knitting without dropping a stitch. Yes, it’s hard. But it’s not so bad. In fact, it’s quite good. I had prepared to have an adverse reaction to the lack of daylight, to completely dislike the bite of cold. And, yet, I’m making it, and it isn’t even as difficult as I expected. I get up early, fill my day with projects and laughter. I am spending time with books and recipes and learning to build things. I finished my first short story (You can read it here). The difficulties are simple because the life is simple. And if I feel down, all I have to do is cook a nice meal or chop some wood or do some yoga. Really, all I have to do is look outside. My father once told me to never have expectations. I think it was one of the best bits of advice I’ve ever received. Because here I am, struggling but not disappointed. I feel energized by the challenge, by the new things I learn and the ways I stretch myself every single day. It’s all something close to serenity, I think, maybe closer than I’ve ever been. A few recipes will follow. I’ve had some bread making success as well as a few earthy dishes for a cold winter’s day. Until then, have a wonderful day. Erin |
Meet ErinJournalist, adventurer, writer, musician, dancer, linguist, and cook, ready to tell you about her ridiculous attempts to live in the Alaskan wilderness without running water and live beyond the woods Archives
April 2016
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