Traveling on Faith
It was the long way around, but I got there.
On Saturday, I was driving to the Literary Bookpost in Salisbury, using the car's navigation system for directions. When I got off I-85, the sign pointed right to downtown - but the nav system sent me left. Hmmmm .... well, maybe it was the back way around a lot of traffic lights. So I followed. Out into the country. Really into the country. Three miles, four miles.
Then I saw the sign, "Welcome to Faith."
The nav system came alive and told me I was approaching my destination, 110 S. Main St.
And there it was, in the tiny downtown of Faith, a house on the lefthand side. And the nav system insisting that I was in Salisbury.
So I tried the GPS on my phone, and it sent me back the way I'd come, toward the downtown, and to 110 S. Main St., the Literary Bookpost.
A few minutes lost, no more. One of the folks attending the workshop said it was meant to be, that taking the detour had perhaps prevented an accident, had taken me into another place for a reason.
There is something a bit eerie about the place I was taken was called "Faith."
It made me consider the work that I do as a writer, the work that other writers tell me about. We open our hearts and minds to some image, some voice, some idea, and then follow it wherever it leads. On faith. On belief that our writing minds will find/create a new path that others can follow.
So I'll leave with this image, taken this morning in the Bog Garden, and this story:
On Saturday, I was driving to the Literary Bookpost in Salisbury, using the car's navigation system for directions. When I got off I-85, the sign pointed right to downtown - but the nav system sent me left. Hmmmm .... well, maybe it was the back way around a lot of traffic lights. So I followed. Out into the country. Really into the country. Three miles, four miles.
Then I saw the sign, "Welcome to Faith."
The nav system came alive and told me I was approaching my destination, 110 S. Main St.
And there it was, in the tiny downtown of Faith, a house on the lefthand side. And the nav system insisting that I was in Salisbury.
So I tried the GPS on my phone, and it sent me back the way I'd come, toward the downtown, and to 110 S. Main St., the Literary Bookpost.
A few minutes lost, no more. One of the folks attending the workshop said it was meant to be, that taking the detour had perhaps prevented an accident, had taken me into another place for a reason.
There is something a bit eerie about the place I was taken was called "Faith."
It made me consider the work that I do as a writer, the work that other writers tell me about. We open our hearts and minds to some image, some voice, some idea, and then follow it wherever it leads. On faith. On belief that our writing minds will find/create a new path that others can follow.
So I'll leave with this image, taken this morning in the Bog Garden, and this story:
A legend out of the Dark Ages tells of Scottish hero Robert the Bruce,
on the run during the winter of 1305–06.
It kept trying to make a connection from one side of the cave's roof to the other.
It failed, and failed, and failed, but finally caught a hold on the far point and completed its web.
Bruce was inspired, and went on to wage successful war against the English, to eventual victory.
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