Station-Wagon-Wielding Road Trip

A short time ago I stepped into a room with no idea of what to expect. There is something so frightening about putting yourself out there—way out there where all you see is the wide ocean. Interrupting all that water—if you can try to imagine an ocean’s worth of water spread out in front of you—is a long, rickety dock. You don’t want to set foot on that insufficient slice of lumber as it trembles above the waves. Very few want to walk its length as it seems to stretch too far to be solid—too far from the comforts of the shore. But, whoa! Squint your eyes and try to fix them on that foolhardy silhouette standing right on that vulnerable edge of that poor-excuse- for-a-dock. That is me—silly me. Any little lick from that deep, dark ocean could just wrap around my leg and pull. I would be swallowed in an instant. I would sink down and down into the gurgling gut of the universe where the world is dark and sandy. Nobody would ever find me.

But—here, open your eyes wide. I remain here in front of you. Instead of being licked up by a powerful and unpredictable ocean, I was allowed a magnificent spot from which to view the world, and I felt so much less afraid of that wide ocean that looked so scary from the shore. I put myself out there and found that there were others. They forced themselves out from behind screens, into shoes, into cars, through a door they had never crossed the threshold of and without the comforting shoulder of familiarity to lean upon. They walked the length of that rickety dock. That was surely not the easiest option available to each of them.

There is no better place to be than in a room among people with a shared passion. When we all gathered and began to speak we discovered we all spoke a similar language—shared a passion for expressing ourselves through words, through illustration, and through art. Some already had their words accepted—published and paid for—while others were pulling their passions back to the surface of their lives where several mouths to feed and so many obligations demanded so much of our limited attention—until today. Today finally became the tomorrow we had deferred toward, the day we promised ourselves would someday arrive. We are starting to make the time we never had and, quite frankly, still don’t have, but the soul can only wait so long before it starts to ache in a way you cannot ignore. And so, now we just need to find some space.

We need to take the time to write during our busy lives. It sure would help if we had access to a quiet and dependable place where writing can happen. It will continue to be a journey and it may involve another rickety dock set out on an intimidating ocean, but a journey is always improved when we have some companions. Other voices and additional personalities transform a journey from solo, sun-scorching quest into station-wagon-wielding road trip. Now, let’s gas up and get going!