What Sustains Us
This morning I arose early to make espresso with my gift espresso machine. Strange how this simple morning ritual gives me so much pleasure—the aroma of roasted beans, the roar of the grinder, whir of the machine as it miraculously creates two streams of the best possible morning beverage. I order my special oat milk creamer by mail but it is worth it. There is much I cannot control in the world, but this simple ritual reminds me that a low note of cardamom and cinnamon in an inky beverage can be enough for the moment.
Outside my window, the mountain peaks are sharp with early snow. The sky is nearly always blue here, an adjustment for this newcomer from the moody Northeast. I’ve always loved variable weather, sudden storms, gusty wind, a whole day of rain. The relentless sunshine feels a bit like the glare of house lights in an auditorium after a play where I was invited into another reality. I never feel quite ready to leave the world of imagination just as I rarely want to see life fully illuminated.
It has been five years since I’ve written a blog. During that time, I’ve published two more books and a chapbook, plus numerous magazine and anthology publications. I’ve finished the fifth draft of my novel (one of two I’ve struggled with for years) and I’ve moved over two thousand miles away from both people and landscape I treasure. I’ve also deleted my Twitter account. Change can be sustaining or crippling. I’m in the process of embracing where I am now as I try to learn this landscape and culture. It is not an easy process for a person in love with coastal landscapes and 30+ year friendships. In an inexplicable way, I have always felt the sea saved me. As I said in my title short story,” Impossibly Small Spaces”, “Water has an enormous capacity for listening”.
Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor 
This is lovely. Makes me makes me yearn for that coffee ritual and rainy days. I, too, am an East Coast transplant though I was pulled to the mountains and have more friends on this side of the divide than that. Please, let me assure you, these mountains hear you and they pass your messages the sea.