Yesterday I was getting ready to update our blog when I realized it’s been almost exactly a month since we all met in Lincoln. I also realized that since it has already been a month the notion of “timeliness” (in terms of discussion topics) isn’t exactly on my side anymore. In short, I couldn’t think of anything to write about without a little voice saying, “well yeah, but that happened a month ago. Is it really worth writing about now?” And the cynic in me said, “I don’t even know if anyone is still reading this blog.” That said, I need your help…
I want you guys to help me out with keeping the experience, the play, the friendships, the family, and the changes alive. Maybe my ideas have become untimely, but I think our experience together has had a timeless effect. I want to hear from all of you constantly—what’s going on in your lives? What’s next for you? And, of course, the general ‘How are you doing?’—so that what I continue to write about isn’t simply, “Look at me still writing about something that happened a while ago with me and some people I spent a week with and haven’t heard from since.” Instead, it’s up to all of us to keep this experience and these friendships alive so that I can keep recording our experience. Also, general advice is always welcome… advice on things you’d like to hear about, advice on how we can all find a way to come together again, anything.
So, until I hear back from you I leave you with this. This is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite authors (you may have already seen it on my Facebook page) and as I went back and re-read it I couldn’t help but relate it to our time and Nine Mile Prairie and Maria’s relationship to the sky, and Annie’s to the wind:
“Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth. He ought to give himself up to a particular landscape in his experience; to look at it from as many angles as he can, to wonder upon it, to dwell upon it. He ought to imagine that he touches it with his hands at every season and listens to the sounds that are made upon it. He ought to imagine the creatures there are and all the faintest motions of the wind. He ought to recollect the glare of the moon and the colors of the dawn and the dusk.” –N. Scott Momaday
Until next time…
