I have now found the law of the oak leaves. - Dan Beachy-Quick

As for me, all I have is oak. All the humans of whom my life entwined and entangled died, and I was released. I had to find my hinge, which when I found it realized it was a henge. Similar but quite distinct, I realized that I wanted more than a hinge to swing my strong oak door open and closed, I truly was after an enclosure, a safe place and that is the henge, the stones that rest on top of a structure or the ditch that encircles it. Henge allows a safe container that does not suffocate but that grounds when needed. A doorway that I could hold on to, that wouldn't leave me, and of which I was more a part of than a keeper of.

I just learned from an exercise here (and these exercises are really well done) that I have relational anxiety attachments. And that is true before considering the fact that I lost all but my offspring relationships five years ago. Heck yeah, I'm anxious, relationaly especially.

Plus, I still hurt. I'm still alone. I don't know how to reconnect to real flesh and blood. But I'm an artist, a literary one. I need to find the way to intregrate all the disparate parts of my life. I think a lyrical prose book may hold the answer.

"That which is creative must create itself,” says John Keats.
Why do I read that as “That which is creative must excrete itself”?...an echo from my puritan upbringing.

I don't know. I don't know anything except the maples outside my window, the blue spruce along the side, the mountains towering in the west, and the oak. And then, I'm not scared. I cannot get lost if I run to the oak. The trees breathe too. I can live with them. I'm at home with them.