where the writers are

Today as I sit at the desk, in the room that will be mine for the next two weeks at this retreat, I think to myself, that what I need and have always needed more than a room, is a world from which and about which to  write.

The world outside my window is dense forest, verdant, expansive, with at least five distinct different bird calls and an environment that is alive and communicative, and happily void of urban noises or intrusions.

The river babbles in multiple tongues, seducing her lover, the trees prance unabashedly, haughtily, even the butterflies, drunk from the sun, hop about... 

This raises the question of the connection between space and creativity --space here is not just physical, for many  have "rooms of their own" but have little of import to write or speak about, and many others can't even find a whisper of a closet for privacy and produce profound words, and conversely.

Yet physical space, a place where  I am able to think, whether it is under a breadfruit tree, or leaned up against the side of the house, or sitting at an impressive desk, with a wall lined with books, is also vitally important and can aid in the production of lucid, lyrical and passionate words that arouse and move others in meaningful ways.

The value of a retreat space is that it tricks the mind, although only temporary, to  believe that nothing else matters, not man, or children, not bills or appointments, not life itself other that the ideas that have been brewing that now, at last has a chance for free reign, to laugh and fall out, to be vomited up, contents observed and the jewels picked from the spoils.

Space then, both physical and mental --breathing space-- is essential for untamed creativity to occur, and for this I am thankful to Soul Mountain.