Finding Inspiration Again
A very exhausted moi after doing combat with a hotel Nespresso machine on four hours sleep in a two-hour time difference. But you know what? I did it, bbs!
19 months later, I finally got back to the place where it happened. And just like that, my batteries are juiced, baby!
Friends, if I told you the past 19-20 months have taken IT out of me, I know you’re likely to nod in agreement, maybe even shrug because of the varying degrees to which we’ve ALL been impacted by global events. My coping mechanisms included literally “shelving” the book I’m working on because there was no way to get the research I needed done. EVERYTHING I need (for the most part) is housed in Denver: the women, the archive, the town itself…the you name it. And while I made the most of it, I’ll be 100 honest, I hit this deep deep air pocket with it that I struggled to get out of.
Part of the fun of working on something that takes place not where you are is the pleasure of going there IN PERSON to experience it. Wellp, I took a trip out there over March 8-12, 2020. I stood on my feet for hours and shot everything I could in the archive (barely made a dent) thinking I’d be back in the summer, the fall, and the winter. Didn’t happen. A friend of mine suggested hiring a student to shoot the rest of it, and looking at images of the place during the seasons to get a feel for it. While I appreciated it as a last-ditch effort, I couldn’t—really couldn’t. So, I asked for an extension and got it. I returned yesterday from my first trip back, where I spent some time in the archive (reduced hours) and visiting with a few people related to the project.
With things looking uncertain again on the ability to travel back front, I count myself lucky to have been back at all. I have always believed that pizza tastes better in Italy because it’s pizza’s home, that tacos taste better in Mexico because it’s their home, and that writing non-fiction history flows better where it occurred because it’s home. There’s this recharge that I feel as I hop on my flight back—this desire to bottle whatever the hell just happened and sip it when I need to once I land at my computer staring at pages upon pages of discoveries from my research. I arrived home yesterday and I feel it: the vibe—the “go get ‘em” vibe. And it really feels great.
Over the next few days, as I come down from the work I did, the memories will sustain me until my next trek out (tentatively October) and I’m in a position of sheer gratitude that this even happened at all. I stayed at this amazing hotel that lives in the train station and rested my mind and spirit between work episodes. I ate my weight in herbed butter. I pecked out a chapter between takeoff and landing on the way out west. I saw two women in their 80s who genuinely support what I’m doing and my book partner who for some CRAZY reason thought I could be an author and gave me the byline in the first place. It’s much funner to do that than it is to Zoomschool teach, continue refreshing an app for grocery delivery windows, backorder masks and wonder where they are, gather far apart and scream outside and hope you’re not taking your neighbor out with aerosols, etc. etc. etc.
None of us will ever be the same after what happened last year. While I’m not sure if that’s for the better or worst, what I do know is this: I will continue to count my magic beans, give a few away to others, and grow more for when the need arises. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about a million pictures to wade through and I LOVE IT! Til next time
Xo,
-G