On January 30th, I am leaving my home and family to spend an entire month by myself on the south rim of the Grand Canyon as an Artist In Residence. The National Park Service chooses twelve people a year to enjoy a month of solitude and solid work. I plan to drive the 1300 miles to Arizona so that I can have my easel, computer, and books, guitar and hiking boots. Everything else will be left behind.
These are what I think of as my taffy years. Pulled in one direction by the needs of my soon to be teen-age son, and the other direction by the needs of my aging father and mother-in-law. In the middle is menopausal-me, all too aware I am not accomplishing all I want, or need.
So the Grand Canyon.
The sky. The moods of winter. The wind. The stars and stones and sculpted crevasses deep and wide and old. And hope. Hope as immense as those crags that in that space I will find the small voice that fills the void and gives meaning and joy.
The Grand Canyon is my "soulspot." A place I have rafted and hiked. A place I dream of when I am not there.
I have created a special place for my photos, poems, observations as well as the essay which earned me this residency. Just go to Grand Canyon Writer. I hope you will virtually join me.