There lies the lobster, on the bed of the ocean floor. As he pinches the grates of the cage with his claws, this bottom feeder unknowingly waits for an involuntary lift to the top. He’ll never know what great purpose he’s about to serve— livelihood for Bill the lobsterman, sustenance for the hungry diner. For me, he gives me hope.
A sabbatical, leave of absence, holiday…call it what you will, but I have left the city of Chicago for an undetermined time. After multiple hang-ups, I felt it was time for greener pastures— literally. So I chose Maine. The reasons for these decisions are as follows.
I need new dishes.
After my post about putting CRUX on hiatus, I reassessed what it was – is – to be creative. As I look back at last May, after Tribute, I realize it was when I “let go and let God,” so to speak, that I really had a life-changing moment of creative clarity. Ever since, I’ve been chasing that same creative high. A shit-storm of solid dishes were birthed through the canal of my own personal failure. Reflection has breathed an air of innovation back into my lungs. Change has filled my veins with serenity.
I forgot I had a book to write.
Holy fuck, a book, yes, a book. I have to recount every fucked up, debaucherous, scum-bag thing I’ve ever done. It doesn’t matter who you are— that can be soul-crushing. I think it’s best I do so away from distractions and easy access to the bottle. I also need to be somewhere where I can collect myself and work on restoring the good things that were in my life.
We all need something more.
There is a saying up in these parts of Maine, taken from the Buddhist religion, that goes – “chop wood, carry water.” This means work must be done before and after enlightenment. I am not in search of enlightenment, per se. But I am in search of something more. Something that I wasn’t entirely getting in Chicago. Between growing and catching my food, cooking outdoors, and the sheer amount of physical labor that living in Maine demands, I’m sure I’ll find enlightenment soon enough.
“Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time.” – H. P. Lovecraft