For me, journaling is a way of capturing little slices of life from our extraordinary, ordinary days, and whenever we read them in the future, it’s as though we’re returned right to that very moment in time.
San Francisco is teaching me that home can be a person, but on a greater level, home is all of the people in our life, whose combined presence forms an emotional foundation just as significant as any physical one.
The Book Passage travel writing and photography conference is a kind of touchstone place I keep returning to, and yet each year finds us all moving forward in our lives and work as well.
Carrying me through each step was the gift that Book Passage gave me, and others: assurance that we are on the right path. That every page written, every risk taken, and every dream believed are actually leading somewhere.
She soon leaves us as we sketch the Bay Bridge, but Suzanne’s words remain with me throughout the rest of the day. Whether I’ve been in a place for thirty seconds or thirty years, I never want to stop sketching – and more importantly, stop seeing.
Even as I mourn the pumpkin pie I won’t be having here today in Delhi, I’m still incredibly grateful for the experiences this year has brought me – grateful for the way each has been a portal into some pretty brilliant new connections and friendships.
It’s still hard to say what exactly made our day so cool. Maybe it was that “everything is its own reward,” and I couldn’t help thinking about all the little moments that had led us to North Beach, and where all of our paths would lead us after.
I came to Sacramento to revel in silence; to be in a place where I know no one and no one knows me. I came to process, to think or not think, whatever my mood; to speak or not speak. I came for that thing called solitude.