Where Do You Live?
Everything is changing – and fast. Our money, our climate, our connections. I find myself longing for the good old days – bygone days remembered through rose-coloured glasses when everyone could afford to buy a house, when cities valued green spaces and parks over condo developments and when people talked on rotary phones that hung on the walls of their kitchens.
We all want progress, but if you’re on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road. ~ C. S. Lewis, author
I feel at odds with the pace of the modern world – like I need to slow down, take a breath and get clear on where I’m headed – where we’re all headed as we heave like a runaway train towards progress, wealth, success.
The two main characters in my novel grew up without iphones, the internet or reality TV. They grew up when I did. We know what a typewriter sounds like, how to search the periodicals section of a library, how many sweet tarts a penny can buy. I’ve carefully planted my characters, like helpless Barbies, into this world because I know this time and place, better than the one I live in today.
The world of my novel is where I grew up, where I lost my first tooth, had my first kiss, got my first job and became who I am. It is where my imagination was born. And so now, as I find myself straggling behind, a child of a different time, wandering in the creative direction of my past, I know am not lost. This is my home. It’s where I live.
I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself. ~ Maya Angelou, poet
When I try to punch the time clock of today I am not content. I was a frenzied blogger and now I blog slowly. I was overwhelmed with a busy life and now I live a more calm existence. I am changing, growing, loving and creating at this pace and from this place. But I will not rush, destroy, überconnect, bombard, sell out, burn out or take for granted this home, this planet, this gift.
I am sure-footed and I am moving towards my own kind of progress on this peaceful, open road. This is where I write. This is my garden. This is my home.
Where do you live?