Left, View from Brockway Mountain, looking over Eagle Harbor and Lake Superior,
Copper Country Cruisin'.
It has been 50 years since I have been to Upper Michigan. Ginger was there just the other day. Here are her reflections:
I went to Copper Harbor, Michigan, with my long-time friend Autumn. It's the most beautiful, pristine place I've ever been within nature. I wish I had more time on the computer, right now, so I could do it justice. I need to write about it. Copper Harbor is this small little town that only exists in the summer; there's too much snow in the winter for people to live there, year-round. Driving up there, we passed a billboard that showed how many feet of snow accumulated in the past year. (Last winter, it was 25 feet.) Apparently, they just stop plowing that road at some point in the winter, so you can't get there by car. In the town, there are a few motels, an ice cream shop, a bar and three restaurants. The ice cream shop sells flavors you've never heard of and makes wild berry sauces for your sundaes. We walked along Lake Superior and saw children feeding pretzels to wild geese. We also went to where the place where US-41 begins, and it stretches 1,990 miles to Miami. I took a picture of the plaque. But then Autumn took me to the most amazing place I've ever been in nature. It's this place on a mountain, where the roads end. You can't travel any further on the peninsula by car, only snowmobile or helicopter. The mountain overlooks Lake Superior and other mountains, covered with evergreens. We got there just as the sun was setting over the lake. The wind rushed over me, knotting my hair. I said a prayer, Blessed is the spot...where mention of God hath been made and His praise
glorified.
Where US 41 begins, in winter
I'm feeling a profound connection to God. I've been reading the Baha'i writings and praying and communing with Him. I've been praying to leave the Valley of Search, in which the seeker looks for God everywhere--in every face, in the dust. I want to enter into the Valley of Love, where the seeker's heart is set ablaze with love and sees God in all things, all faces. I'm getting closer. I'm afraid, in a way. I have to take a hard look at my life, the poor choices I've made. Drinking isn't good for me. There are some relationships, friendships, that aren't good for me. Succumbing to depression, my mind's natural bend towards sad things, isn't good for me. Being unmedicated isn't good for me, though I hate the thought of regulating my feelings with pills. In order to be aligned with God's will, I've got to humble myself and make some changes. I've got to pray for detachment from material things and "quencheth [my spirit] of the fire of self." I've known this for a long time, but actually making those changes is difficult. Copper Harbor country
I was reading a quote from 'Abdu'l-Baha about speech. He said something about how it's important that all speech is humble and fair. It's a powerful quote that I'll have to find and put in here; I'm really not doing it justice. It made me realize how much I write about sad things and how I get more responses, in person and online, when I write about happy things. I mean, when I write sad things, people leave me beautiful, supportive comments. But when I write with hope or happiness, people tend to respond with their own joys. It made me think about the kind of writer I want to be. I do gravitate towards what's depressing and dark in this world. I'm good at writing about that, for some reason. (As a professor said, "You take nature and human consciousness and slam them together.") But most people don't crave darkness; they want humor and hope, even if it's in the midst of sadness. I remember reading Sartre's The Wall when I was in junior high; the stories gave me a sad, bleak feeling. It made me feel immoral. I don't want to be a writer who leaves a reader with just that. I want to be like Jeanette Winterson, who inspires and makes people laugh and tells great stories and shares sad things, but with a hopefulness. After reading her work or listening to her speak, I feel inspired to be a better person and to make the world a better place. How powerful is that? It makes me wonder at what point, as an artist, I began to think that writing tragic things was more "artistic" than writing with joy....
View from Brockway Mountain Drive,
looking West North West over Lake Superior,
There's a service that I need to do. I've been avoiding it for a long time, but I really must do it. I'm obligated; it's the right thing. I'm so conflicted about it, but I need to remember to surrender and serve. I just haven't figured out how to serve without losing myself. I've just got to remember that work done in the spirit of service is worship. I've got to remember this: Deny not what My servant asks of thee, for his face is My Face. This whole being-a-better-person thing is proving difficult, but I'm trying to do what's right. I also need to remember this quote, which I'm paraphrasing: Greatest of all virtues in Mine Eye is justice. ~
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