This was once Mazama, I kept reminding myself. This was once a mountain that stood nearly 12,000 feet tall and then had its heart removed. This was once a wasteland of lava and pumice and ash. This was once an empty bowl that took hundreds of years to fill. But hard as I tried, I couldn’t see them in my mind’s eye. Not the mountain or the wasteland or the empty bowl. They simply weren’t there anymore. There was only the stillness and silence of the water: what a mountain and wasteland and and empty bowl turned into after the healing began.

— Wild, Cheryl Strayed

I perhaps read about reading more than I actually read… I need to set time aside for this really fulfilling endeavor. Coming up with creative spaces to read will probably assist me…

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