Actually a little west of there, but only a letter-writing train ride and a few short blocks away from Powell’s bookstore in downtown.
Life here is full of complicated contrasts. The up-and-outwardness of exploring a new city and coast, the down-and-insideness of feeling my tender and recently-torn roots.
It’s taken me four months to seek out another writing community. I clearly know why – nothing can replace what I had with you.
It’s been easy to ignore my writing practice. The sun has been shining (mostly) all summer and into the fall . I go out and play. Find cool things, go for long bike rides, enjoy nature. I do some writing in my blog and journal. Yet I don’t write with process or ritual and I don’t hear my words back from others. I don’t have the accountability or the support of other women. I even put off the invitation to do a blog update.
This is a happy story, though. The happiness is that I know, deeply, how much the WWF(a)C Bloomington community has touched, and continues to enrich, my life. And with that gift, I tune in to my new home with renewed spirit. I take a risk. I run my first Google search, “women+writing+Portland.” That’s a start, a good start.