It seems that it has been months since I have posted anything. But looking now I see it’s actually only been a few weeks. Time and many places pushed up against one another trick our perception of life. And perhaps the outcome is the feeling of all of the new experiences combined. From Louisiana and to Bozeman and back again. 3 post office boxes, one street address that rarely receives mail. Life floats over the concrete material of reality.
This morning I am here, in Vermillion Parish. The heart of Louisana’s wetland. A spot that is closest to what this place felt like before we dredged, cut, and leveed the marsh to become what we needed it to be.
A 5 mile canoe trip to help our bodies record this place. Mosquitoes, humidity and a breeze remind us that we are in a place that is not the same as yesterday’s place.
I breath it in, I scratch the mosquito bite on my neck. I meditate on this place, this world and try to stretch my memory over time so that I know and then remember what it feels like to be here when I go.