In the summer of 2020, two tropical depressions were building in the Gulf of Mexico, threatening to become hurricanes. It would have been the first time in history that the Gulf experienced two hurricanes at once. The town of Chauvin, Louisiana, was located at the point where they were expected to overlap.
We were in the early months of the Pandemic. The world had shut down and we were all moving in separate orbits. I began exchanging writing with a friend, a way of tracking time when time seemed untrackable. The daily ritual of sending and receiving words became an anchor, a call and response. Memoirs, fictions, conversations; meditations on ancestors and place, inquiries into the natural world. This blog grew out of those stories.
Along with writing, I developed a daily habit of walking. I was living in Santa Fe at the time. Narrow dirt roads, metal art on street corners and gates that led nowhere were regular occurrences, along with seasonal changes and the startling quality of light. I took photos on my walks and began putting them together with the day’s writing. The stories that emerged helped make sense of a bewildering time.
When in uncharted territory, look for maps:
the trajectory of birdsong, the path taken on an afternoon walk,
the progression of a narrative.
We live in a time of multiple hurricanes: climate disruption, pandemic, war, the erosion of human rights. Each story has a before and after, a beginning, middle and end. There’s an overlap where the stories meet, like a Venn Diagram. A point on a map that says: You Are Here.
I live in Northern New Mexico. When I’m not writing or gardening, I work as a memoir coach, developmental editor and teach writing workshops. (More on that here: conniejosefs.com.)
We don’t do anything alone and are connected in ways beyond what we imagine.
Thank you to writer-musician, Deborah Crooks. Our exchange continues to encourage these words. (Find Deborah’s music and writing here: deborahcrooks.com.)
Many thanks to the writers and students who stretch and inspire me daily.
Grateful for the land that is New Mexico, home of nineteen Pueblos, the Apache and the Diné.