Lessons from the Abyss, from a Woman Who Had Never Been

I’ve been away at a writers’ colony for one week, with one more week left to go. It seems ridiculous to state this next fact out loud: I haven’t been alone in this way, without attachment to anything that is ordinarily in my daily life, for nearly twenty years. How sad, I thought at first when I realized this, and yet, this is just how things have trickled along.

The Rivendell Writers’ Colony in Sewanee, TN, where I’m currently a fellow, is magic. I would come here once a month if I didn’t have to leave my children and travel for eight hours just to get here. (I sat next to the most annoying family on earth on my way down, but it didn’t matter because A.} They weren’t mine, and B.} Headphones, baby.)

I came because it sounded like a good idea six months ago when I thought of it originally, and I came because I am a writer and that’s what everyone else around here seems to be, too. Despite my urge to toss glitter into the air and dance underneath it just to feel it shine, it also looks pretty when similar things are organized together on a shelf. People. Books. Paperclips.

Also, for various other reasons that I am certain all have to do with the cosmos—we had a damn solar eclipse two days ago, for godssake—the timing was perfect for me to check out of my regular life and pop on down to Tennessee. They have seltzer water here—it’s not like hightailing it for the Amazon—which you can buy at a place called the Piggly Wiggly. They call this thing we’re sitting on here a mountain, even though it looks like a big stone plate that a bunch of dinosaurs chucked across the valley a long time ago. It’s okay, I’m game. I’ll call it a mountain.

I am so happy right now to be exactly who I am, where I am in my life, with whatever lies next. It’s not often that we get to this space of intense and utter joy, but would that each of us could.

What follows from here on out are some things I’d like you to know, right now, in case you need them.

I really do love instant coffee. I swear to god, the kind that comes packaged like an adult Pixie Stick is money. The Starbucks brand was my favorite, but I went out and bought Nescafe yesterday, and it’s totally on point. Combined with an Insta-hot tap at the kitchen sink, it’s like astronaut ice cream for the dawn.

Crackers and peanut butter are a totally acceptable choice for dinner. (Think about all the power greens and hummus you ate yesterday.)

Bullfrogs are gorgeous creatures and should not be punchlines, at least not always.

I like being alone in the woods each day, running along a misty trail, taking spider webs in the face and drinking in that solitude, knowing that I’m the first one to take that path each morning.

Last summer, a girlfriend of my mine bought me the sexiest nightgown anyone has ever given me, and I brought it with me on this trip because it looks good, even when I’m alone, and it makes me feel like a damn fine woman.

I like getting over my fear of reading my work out loud, in my own voice, because I’m good at it and it’s good practice to stand up in front of people in a town you’ve never been to before and share your latest, most raw, unedited work. That’s living.

I like making good-looking meals even when I don’t have to. Picking vegetables out of the garden for those meals makes them even better.

For the rest of my life, I will always stop at that cute little store on the corner selling farmer trash. That’s a fact.

I like drinking my coffee while watching the fog roll up from the valley floor, and walking through the grass even when there are ants busy in the tiny trenches beneath my feet.

Do not keep bananas in the cupboard because that’s gross.

Take time each morning to stretch your muscles—get ready for all the different kinds of work you want to be doing each day.

Don’t feel pressure to go outside—that’s what windows are for. It’s perfectly acceptable to sit at your desk, or in the bathtub if you want to, until you need a break.

If you forget nail polish, pick some up at the dollar store and ask the girl working the register about her bracelet. She is awesome and she’s so freaking happy you asked.

Squirrels without bushy tails are basically just acorn-loving rats.

Do not swim in the pond, even though you really want to—those weeds will choke the life out of you.

Some hours are for working and some are for taking care of yourself—you decide.

Sometimes, you need to sit by the pasture with a woman who is much wiser than you and open a bottle of rosé at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Slow down for butterflies in the road.

Write your kids another postcard and send them pictures of tiny, spotted mushrooms you found in the grass. (They’re totally fine without you, by the way—their dad knows how to make pancakes.)

Drink as much La Croix as you want—it’s barely 25 cents a can.

Most importantly, give yourself all the time you need, and use it for whatever you need. You deserve that. You get permission, straight from the cosmos in fact, to take care of yourself so that when it’s time, you can return to your regular life and love the people you love with even more joy and freedom than you ever have before.