A Writer's Secret Place

On the first morning of our vacation to Yachats around 6:45 A.M., I am still drowsy while I curl over in bed taking dim note of our surroundings. Our bedroom faces East with a wall to wall picture window protected by a panel of hanging canvas-like shades.

The rising sun is streaming through those vertical panels, illuminating a picture of Martha's Vineyards on the opposite wall, and an adjacent beach painting called "By the Sea."

I hear my wife Susan in the kitchen probably making coffee. Every so often there is a cracking boom from the surf outside, crashing against our rugged, rocky Oregon coastline.

I am more awake now, but I close my eyes to move myself deeper into the spirit of relaxation. However, I do commence to stroke Silas, our twelve pound poodle and pomeranian mix, who is snuggled besides me.

Slowly, I become aware of and more sensitive to the outside chatter of birds commingled with the cackling songs of some crows.

Woven within the cacophony is the mysterious and melodic flute-like song of an unknown avian creature. Whatever the nature of this species, I am convinced it is a virtuoso.

Such sweet, soothing refrains, flash me back to the Native American music, Susan and I became so exquisitely familiar with when we lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico in the 90's.

The flute notes continue with a slightly reedy resonance, accompanied by three staccato whistles at the end of the bird song. I know in my heart, as a few tears of joy land on my face, that I must have arrived in heaven.

As I record these precious moments in my journal, I would like to say a few words of encouragement to aspiring writers. First and foremost, start writing your own journal. There is something healing, therapeutic, and thought provoking about the whole journaling process.

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