"..the cities of the interior are vast and do not lie on any map." - J. Winterson, "The Passion"
It's time for the woods.
Never mind the fridge. Never mind the toilet. Never mind the laundry, the cooking and cleaning and all the other things that need to be done. I'm going off to the woods on Sunday to go sit and be quiet for a while. If anyone wants to come with me, they're welcome, but they'll be given to understand that there will be silence for a little while - phones off, no conversation, no explanations. I need to walk quietly, sit silently, hopefully up in a tree.
I grew up in the woods in upstate New York, and I have never really gotten used to living where I can't walk out the back door an be surrounded by trees. I wasn't made to be surrounded by all the unnatural sounds of modern life, at least not without frequent retreats to places where all I hear is birdsong, the wind in the trees, and wild animals doing what they do. And it's been far too long since I went back to one of the main things that sustains and renews my spirit.
"I can see night in the daytime/into the woods/I quietly go..." - The Call, "Into The Woods"