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| Summer splendor, San Juan mountains, Colorado |
August 8.
My first morning back in the US. COLORADO!! I wake at daybreak- courtesy of jetlag- to the lavish splendor of this
temperate latitude, in awe. The tangle
of oak and elder outside the bedroom window and the delicious fragrance of
greenery after rain is puzzling at first, a little shocking to my senses. I’ve become too accustomed to Greenland’s stark
horizon of rock and ice, and the pungence of rank seal blubber and sea. A hummingbird hovers outside my screened
window, vibrant amidst vining purple clematis. Like dormant lichen gathering moisture after drought, I soak it up. I'm so content.
I left the
Arctic in a dual state of inspiration and overwhelm. Here at home, I continue to be overwhelmed
by the abundance that exists on so many levels: the lushness of the mountain
landscape, the ubiquitous excess of food and amenities, the prevalence of
conversation, chatter and gratuitous human interaction.
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| Dusk becoming darkness at my wintering site in remote northern New Mexico. |
And ohhh… the NIGHT. I stepped off the airplane onto the tarmac
late last evening, smiling into the velvety darkness. Shrouded by a blanket of stars overhead, I’d
forgotten how the night calms me, enveloping and protecting me like the warm
embrace of an old friend. Ahh, darkness-
after 40 days of light.
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| Young friends show me the way, La Plata River Canyon. |
I feel like
a toddler, regarding the world with a child’s sense of wonder and innate curiosity. I’m enthralled by all the succulent details
of the everyday, losing myself in the minutiae of a flower petal or a swirl of
subtle color on wet asphalt. Sometimes
it takes lack and loss to find one’s way again.
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| Claret Cup cactus blooms in Colorado |
August 9. I walked into the grocery store today and had
a meltdown. (You mean I can have whatever I want?? But
there are so many choices!) Avocados,
eggplant, tofu, chick peas, and tamari-roasted almonds. Pears and spinach, fig cookies and
peaches. Corn tortillas, coconut,
arugula, jicama. I’m skinny since
Greenland. I can’t possibly buy or eat
all this. I consume visually, with my
eyes, my hands pausing over tidy mounds of plums from California, grape
tomatoes from Mexico. Squeeze. To
have so much- is this bounty or gluttony?
I am giddy
with the effortlessness of communication, and from being in a place where people
know and care for me. It’s not just the
commonality of a shared language, it’s also the sub-culture of
familiarity. Both friends and strangers
regard one another, often, with a fluency and ease that I find heartening. I can talk to people here. I can connect.
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| Kayaking, self-portrait |
It’s hard to describe the sense of quiet
exuberance that possesses me at the moment.
I understand that it's the result of accumulated longing amassed beneath
and beyond my Arctic travels, magnified under the pressure of ten months away. Something in me releases now, and I breathe a
long exhale after waiting, enduring, thrashing over countless obstacles. Fulfillment after yearning. Relief.
My time in Greenland, though in many ways a
refuge, was as austere as the rock and ice that surrounded me there. Returning to a landscape of green and a
profusion of growing things echoes the renewed bounty of my internal landscape.
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| Apache Plume, cyanotype photogram |
The downside- if there is one- is that I’ve returned
after many months of quiet introspection to the insistent din of contemporary
life. All the solo time spent in the
studio- and trawling the backwaters
of my mind- will make wending my way back to a busier world more daunting. I wonder if I’ve unlearned the skills
required to join the ranks of muliti-taskers armed with iPhones, earbuds, and
daily planners brimming with urgency.
But this is just fear shadowing me like a cloud pausing overhead. I’ve never really been a part of that
lifestyle and my unfitness for it is likely more a gift than I will ever know.
Postscript- August 31. I’ve been back three weeks now and my sense
of wonder and delight in the world remains.
Eventually the bustle will claim me again, but for now everything still
sparkles, as light-filled and luminous as the ice of a northern glacier.
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| Icebergs near Melville Bay, NW Greenland |
