|photo from FineArtAmerica|
I just returned to work after three weeks off.
The first weekend was spent in a writing workshop. Three days at the Oregon Gardens Resort with the fantabulous Lidia Yuknavitch and Domi Shoemaker and all of the incredible Corporeal Writing participants willing to dive into Eros, Heat, Summer writing, reading, being present. This was a wonderful experience, again. The best way to start an elongated time off work.
Then I spent two plus weeks traveling to, from, and being in Taos, NM. Part of my heart is there, pieces of soul connect. I don't know if I could live there full-time and yet a few days away and I'm tugged back. Maybe. I don't know. But that doesn't matter.
What matters is that this is the first time in a long time that I let down, over a period of time. There were little calls back to my other-day life: a little bit of theatrical interpreting, and I was (still am) participating in an online manuscript workshop. Those were all fine. I successfully avoided most work emails. It was an unproductive time, which in this case, is good. Really good.
Then I noticed, back here at work, pace.
It hasn't been a super fast pace most of the day (t was a little, for a while). But I hadn't realized how much I had taken in the Taos pace. I know there is one. But, wow, I really did fall into that pattern.
I could like it.
At least for a while.
Noticing the difference. And maybe I need more of that more often.
Pace. and Space. and Sky.