Blowing Rock Studies

The incline begins and I already start to feel more free. My mind goes clear and importance comes to the surface. The breath of the mountains demands to be felt and there is no reason one should not want to. Immediately the air is fresher and the ground makes you feel lighter. It feels like home. 

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Next there is a porch that feels like a different country. I look out at roof tops and down into alley ways with beautiful broken furniture. I sit at the table and water is poured. It tastes like living water. I have not tasted water as sweet as this water and it stops everything. Sweet conversation and misdirection. The sky grows dark and fried green tomatoes appear on the table. Quiches and bread service. The air grows still and the magic water falls from the heavens. The air is quiet, my body is quiet, my mind is quiet. Finally, peace. Wonder, enlightened. 

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Next I find myself at a brewery in my city of nostalgia. There is not anything quite like a day with no plan and endless choices of fine places. We stroll to a high top and order lagers and ciders. I note the greenish color of the main building and red awning to the left. Sweet mountain air and music swirling from The Lumineers now. Oh no it's coming to an end. 

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I pack myself up and find myself back to the swamp. Ideas swirling around in my head and I feel the healing begin. Paint captures what I am unable to describe and makes my words into melodies on tough canvas. I attempt to capture what I know has been living inside, pleading to come out. The feeling of home that lives in me, the evidence of my home country.