As some of you know, for the 2022 holiday season, I'm planning to take a huge break from the past traditions that Carolle and I had. I've put up lights on the balconies, but that's about it.
Beginning tomorrow (Wednesday), I'll be house-sitting a very large 'cottage' near Lake Erie for two weeks. Alone.
My plan is to go away, think, write, practice music, and walk along the shore. Alone.
I need to think about my future and not just drift into it.
If this sounds like the identity crisis all over again, yes, it is.
And I laugh at myself about it.
And yet I know I need to do this, even if it accomplishes little or no outwardly recognizable change.
As I prepared for the move to the 'cottage' (which I have named "Nepenthe" even if the owner doesn't adopt the name), I began to think of the poem by John Masefield that we studied in Grade 9 (and which is only barely relevant).
I must go down to the seas again
to the lonely sea and the sky...
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
That reminds me: I want to pack a kite or two to take with me.