Leaving the Sanctuary

I am totally immersed in my work. It is not at all comfortable. This morning I wrote nine new pages. I don’t like this story and I wish I hadn’t lived it. But I did and at this point I feel that the only direction I can go is forward, to release myself at the end of it. I have to keep going.

It’s raining again. Today a group of people returned to the Adirondack Museum and I leaped at the opportunity to go. I needed to get out of my head, out of these words, this story for a little while.

The Museum is a scattering of buildings over a beautiful campus overlooking Blue Mountain Lake. There is an exhibit of Adirondack boys’ and girls’ camps, which I loved, an exhibit of gorgeous rustic furniture, much of it made from birchwood. A stunning display of boats – canoes and kayaks and little lake yachts. I dashed through the rain from building to building.

After walking around I felt overwhelmed and stunned in the gift shop. I haven’t had to buy anything in days. At first I felt like I had to buy gifts for everyone in my family, whether they needed anything or not (they really don’t). So I walked around with my arms full of stuff. Then I retraced my steps and put things back. Did I really need to buy another sweatshirt? I ended up with some postcards, a pen and a pencil (both of which I had forgotten to bring). I got a nice little Adirondack luggage tag for my suitcase. Now I’m huddled back in front of the fire feeling like I’ve just spent a week in the big city: shellshocked. I could live like a hermit for a long time.