My mother was here last week. Her plan was to visit my brother and his family in San Francisco, then she was coming to see me in Arizona. She was supposed to be here for two weeks, but I live in a quiet part of Arizona, and I know my mom … two weeks here and she’d be crawling the walls.
The solution? Road trip! (Honestly, I think a road trip is the solution to most problems.)
I drove to San Francisco to meet her, and the two of us took a week to wander along the Pacific Coast, up into Vegas and back down to Phoenix. It was a great trip and we saw some fantastic sites. Once again, I was awed by the diverse beauty of this part of the world, from the immense views of the ocean from the Pacific Coast Highway to Arizona’s stunning red rocks in Sedona.
Here are a few highlights (click on a photo to see it full size):
Henry Miller’s writing has been an inspiration since the first time I read “Tropic of Cancer.” I can’t say I always understand him, and there are times I shake my head and say, “Huh?” But I keep reading because his writing is powerfully vivid, filled with energy and raucous life.
His work isn’t always happy; sometimes it’s gritty or gross, but it’s joyful in it’s passion, and I find the energy contagious.
In honor of Mr. Miller’s birthday today (December 26, 1891), I’m sharing this quote from “Henry Miller On Writing.” I find it so inspiring I want to tell all my writer friends … Print it out and post it on your computer, use it as a bookmark, frame it, sing it. Do whatever you want with it, just don’t forget it.
“Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.”