Hoo-ah! The Bozone reels me in from all directions. During the late 80s at MSU, the minds of my fellow philosophy students shone brightly inside discussion on predetermined topics. Voices from those discussions still pop up when pertinent context exists. My life as a learner took hold tightly in Bozeman. My life as a friend and a lover took hold there, too.
Though improbable, my cells know how to turn my body toward Bozeman when my eyes are blindfolded. Bouncing through "nu-uhs" one afternoon, my daughter tested my claim. She blindfolded me so that I would have no chance of peeking. We went out onto the deck, then downstairs to the yard. She walked me around in circles several times. After a few turns she'd ask me to face toward Bozeman. I did it correctly 16/16 times. Living in Bozeman made Bozeman live in me. Familiarity builds physical connections not only between people, but between people and places. Think about somewhere you have not been for years. Somewhere you spent days upon days of your lives exploring, reading, loving, cleaning, and learning. Close your eyes now, get lost in a memory, and see if you feel it in your body.
Place becomes us.
This summer I will participate in the inaugural year of the Yellowstone Writing Project. The YWP is hosted by MSUs Kirk Branch, and Lisa Eckert. Yup, I'll be breathing in the Bozeman air, cruising alleys, perusing thrift shops and writing. This blog is a playground for words during the project. Perhaps it will continue beyond the duration of the project. It just might prove itself to be useful, fun, therapeutic, or worthwhile in some as yet unknown manner.
Here it be. Commiment made. One (more or less as the spirit moves me) post per day. With no topic provided, dear reader, expect a meandering blog.
Tangents are openings difficult to resist.