Field Notes: Entry One

I am not where I thought I would be.

The longer I enjoy (and sometimes suffer) the privilege of living, the more I understand that life is not a planned route. There is no trail map.

I carry a small fire, just above my solar plexus. She is persistent. She says, “You have somewhere to be, woman. Get moving.” But I do not know the way, and I am short on time.

We wrestle, this fire and me. I want to stop and look at the mosses, greet every frond of glossy green. She would rather we press on toward the shrouded peak, that moving target at which I am “supposed” to arrive in life.

Sometimes we align, we agree. When my legs are tired and I cannot remember the last time I’ve eaten, I stop for a rest and the fire burns down to embers. Even the trees go still.

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Never along this journey did I plan to arrive here, in northern Minnesota, as an artist. I am so grateful that I did. I feel that I am exactly where I need to be, where I belong.

Here I have been given a family, a community, a home. Good soil. I work in tandem with that fire in my chest, who seems to be delighted with this section of trail we are on. Each day is different, and each day brings a new gift.

My hope is that, come July, all of these gifts will have made their way into the print I am now creating. I will carve away what is no longer needed and keep what I have received here.

Stay tuned.