if you’ve visited in the past week, you know i’ve been in a bit of a fallow. and before i go one syllable further, i’d like to say to those of you who offered me pills and to those who offered me jesus: i know you offered from a place of caring, and i thank you for that.

my fallow is not depression. it is part of my creative process. the word fallow, as you know, refers to land that is left unseeded for a season in order to replenish the nutrients and minerals that nature restores during the resting season. during my fallow i wasn’t wallowing or wasting time. i was resting. replenishing, reflecting. i was taking care of myself. and though i never know how long a fallow will last (it isn’t about calendar or clock time), i woke up yesterday morning feeling refreshed and, well, feisty. plentiful, too as the words just keep squirting out of every nook and cranny of my being.

they’re not just words but clear realizations that i’m now ruminating on. and in that magical way that we can’t (and don’t need to) explain, yesterday was sprinkled with random (in the sense that none were scheduled ahead of time) phone and digital conversations with women enjoying the same quickenings, awakenings, shifts, signs of confirmation from the sweet spirit of surprise.

i have to go spiffy up the house in anticipation of the arrival of friends, but i’ll be writing more about this over the next few days – the big picture and the specifics. perhaps you’d like to join me . . .