Of two peninsulas

I live on the Kitsap Peninsula, west of Seattle.

If you keep heading west and cross one more body of water, you will reach the Olympic Peninsula, which is where I go to feed my soul. From the Olympic mountains to the rain forests, from the rivers and falls to the ocean beaches, from the lakes to the sand spits, it is a place of breathtaking beauty seen in infinite forms of life.

In the latter half of 2020, I began noticing that my main response to a year of pandemic chaos and turmoil was to work more, and more, and more.

I am passionate about my work and never tire of it. But life needs balance, and somewhere amidst the changes and challenges I lost my balance and began channeling all my energy in a single direction.

So in October that year, I carved out two days for a personal getaway to the peninsula.

While journaling at Hurricane Ridge, I started to remember what life was like back when I was singing regularly in “my” bunker at Fort Worden. When I was writing poetry. When I was not letting photos accumulate indefinitely on my phone.

Those were good times. I felt more whole, less fragmented.

Hence, a blog.