Magical Realism, Writing, Fiction, Politics, Haiku, Books

viernes, agosto 17, 2012

Bahia Soliman Again

Bahia Soliman

In the beginning, there was only the bay, Bahia Soliman, just north of Tulum in Quintana Roo, Mexico, in the Mayan Riviera. The reef protected the bay from storms, sheltered the coral forests, and tinted the water the most gorgeous turquoise. You could hear the wind and waves rumble at the reef. Pelicans dove, frigate birds cruised. There were fish hawks. And barricudas. At the shore there was only the most gentle undulation and the turtle grass moved like a tai chi master. The sand was smooth and white. I love the Bay. I have loved it since I first saw it many, many years ago. And so, early next week I return there for a short stay.

There will, of course, be occasional postings, pictures while I am at the Bay. Maybe some new Tulum photos. But in general, my keyboard time will greatly decrease, and my blog output will become a thin trickle, maybe just a sporadic dripping, maybe even complete silence. You could imagine here instead of my voice, the clacking of the cocos in a humid breeze, the songs of birds and insects, the sounds of waves as they gently groom the reef. Sounds of life. Sounds of nature.

This is one of the cycles of creativity. Inhaling inspiration and exhaling words, dreaming and writing, abandoning conventional time, contemplating, renewing, resting, reinventing. Imagining. A lull, a pause, a brief hiatus. Who knows what will happen when time gently expands itself so that every minute has 63 seconds? Who knows what is hiding in plain sight? Who knows what treasure is in the lost and found?

I am bringing with me Novel Three. There are only about a thousand words, and there are, of course, lots of ideas. It is just a tiny, new sprout. Will it grow? Will it be nourished? What will be revealed? Of course, I'm aware of the injunction I received, that I should write even more joyfully. That seems good advice. I will take it.

Imagine now that this post is a small, shiny soap bubble and that when we come to the period in this sentence it will rise safely up through the cocos into the deep blue sky and silently disappear.

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