Lost in Birdsong

To the east the sky is white through the trees, the sun still just behind the mountain. I’m out on the back deck, my cup of tea is hot, the air is barely moving, and the birds are going at it, staking claims and laying out boundaries that I can’t begin to recognize, much less navigate.

I’m reminded of a phrase from “A Field Guide to Getting Lost,” by Rebecca Solnit, that getting lost means “. . . the world has become larger than your knowledge of it.” I like that take on getting lost a lot, and it seems to me that we could all use a touch of that now and then. I know I need it, the reminder that there are fields and areas and layers that I’m not even dimly aware of, that might at any time offer me a glimpse. I look forward to that unanticipated widening or deepening of my world. Keeps things interesting, and makes it easier to stay open to the next surprise. 

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A career working with teenagers on the fringes of society has made me both sensitive to and appreciative of the complexities of character and the struggles, inner and outer, that we all wrestle with in one form or another. My writing emphasizes character development over action, and, as a lifelong Southerner, the rhythms and cadence of the Southeastern United States influence both my spoken and written voice.

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