The knock comes at 3:45 a.m. I lay still under my mosquito net, trying not to lose the images from my dreams, letting them sink into me so I can carry them through the starlight to the village elder.
I am writing this along the banks of Jack Creek deep inside Wrangell St Elias National Park…in Alaska! It has again been a long time since you have heard from me.
I know it has been way too long since you have heard from me. Even the best of friends have to keep in regular contact.
It is hard to believe I’ve been in Costa Rica for three months already! The days just melt away. I start each day with a swim in the cove, followed by a shower to rinse off the salt and a breakfast of fruit and coffee, then I sit down to write before it simply gets too hot for me to think.
He presses the side of his once-famous face hard against the warm velvet of the giant sequoia, breathing the scent of eons of growth and struggle, feeling the basin and range of the bark against the length of his out-flung arms, his widest stretch embracing only a tiny span of the epic circumference.
Just as in our own lives, a healthy birth and the death of a child are the most joyous and tragic events possible, so it seems, they are for dolphins.
I’ve been doing a surprising amount of thinking about the Artic as I sit here sweating in Costa Rica.
Teach me to be graceful in community
and beautiful in solitude
This place is alive with sound. Indeed, I heard its music before I ever set foot on land.
When I started this blog, I thought it was going to be only about my trip to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.