Ice Breakers, A Closer View

Photo:  The Ice Breakers at Gallipolis, another view. ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .

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It should come as no great surprise to anyone that I'm trying to write a book about my Ohio River Journey.  It's been three years since my first book came out, and I've written and published several stories since then, but it's time to dive into a big project again.  A big commitment. 

As soon as I got home, I started several manuscripts.  Each had its merits, but I've had a hard time finding the right approach and the right voice.  At one point, I abandoned the idea of writing a non-fiction book altogether (out of fear of dropping my protective "mask") and began a mythical piece much like The Old Man and the Sea.   Finally I had to admit:  I was stuck.

Yesterday, however, after doing the entry about Gallipolis, I had an extraordinary experience.  The "ice" that had me bound artistically was broken, and I believe I have found my approach and my voice.  Also, I went back through my previous writings, the ones I did on the boat, and found I was leaving out a lot of the humor.  This was such a big loss, but it took me a while to realize this.

Isn't it a miracle how the unconscious works?  And how a simple act, like bringing together disparate elements in a journal entry can cause your thoughts to suddenly come together.  Everything makes sense now, and the ideas are flowing so fast I can hardly get them down fast enough.

I will be working all evening, into the night, and into the early morning.  I'm so excited.

Wish me well!  If I fall deeply into the writing mode, I may not post for a while.

Miguel de Unamuno

Photo:  Ice Breakers just off the docks to which "Blue Girl" was tied at Gallipolis, OH.  ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .~ . ~ .       ~ .~ . ~ . ~        . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .~ . ~ . ~ .~     . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .~ . ~ . ~ .~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .~ .~ .               ~ .~ . ~ . ~

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We stopped at Gallipolis to have Allen's boots repaired. (They were literally busting at the seams).  We'd heard in the previous town, Pomeroy, of an excellent shoe repairman we'd find there.  We ended up staying two days in Gallipolis.  We took a long walk one day and I spied a used book store, and...  

 

   

"At times to be silent is to lie. You will win because you have enough brute force. But you will not convince. For to convince you need to persuade. And in order to persuade you would need what you lack: Reason and Right."

Unamuno in a confrontation with fascist General Milan-Astray

... now I can not resist posting this quote by Miguel de Unamuno. 

I discovered Unamuno during my Ohio River Trip.  I found a book called Spanish Stories and Tales  for $1.00 at a little used bookstore in Gallipolis.  The book was published in 1956, the same year I was born! The stories so invaded my thoughts that they completely turned around my idea of how I wanted to write about my Ohio boat journey.  My favorite piece was "Saint Manuel Bueno, Martyr" by Miguel de Unamuno.  This story can be found in a modern collection of Unamuno's works, and anyone interested in religion, mortality, and the existential problem we all face would do well to read it.

OHIO RIVER JOURNEY III--Home At Last

Photograph:  Buddha and me on a very hot day in Paducah, KY

 

It is coincidental but somehow appropriate that my first entry upon my return from my Ohio River Journey is on the day of my journal's first anniversary.

To remind everyone:  We (My husband, Allen, our Boston Terrier, Buddha, and I) started our boat journey on the Monongahela River in Brownsville, Pennsylvania, floated into the Ohio at Pittsburgh and followed its entire length to Cairo, Illinois.  We then went back upstream to Lewisville, KY, where our son met us with the truck and trailer and from there we drove home to NW Ohio.  We decided to take this journey back in December 2004, on the day of the Winter Solstice.  We went in a 22-ft. sailboat (without the sails; the boat was powered by a 9.9 H.P. motor), we slept on the boat, we took most of our meals on the boat. 

My mind is a vortex of memories and it will take me a long while to sort everything out. 

What I can talk about is the gift of "being" this journey gave me.  I recently read that in order to delve into our hearts, we must stop "doing" and work at "being."  This is something we all already know, but what I hadn't realized until this journey was that we can't simply will ourselves to "be."  The act of being comes about through discipline, and this journey gave me a sort of shortcut to "being," since I had little choice most of the time other than to "be."  (Our 9.9 H.P. motor was not going to do any more than 5-7 miles per hour no matter what--so why rush?)

The journey gave me a lot of time to think, read, and write.  All of my impressions were much sharper since I was out of my natural environment. 

I wrote many pages:  I have nearly a hundred typewritten pages and as many hand-written pages.  It's all a jumble and I've yet to find the meaning in the experience; I've yet to find the story.  I'll be working at doing that for many months to come.

I'm glad to be home, and I'm glad to be able to reconnect with online friends.