By Ramona Flightner/ @ramonaflightner
As I read articles about writing, one of the frequently suggested pieces of advice is to have a daily writing schedule. Have a goal, write 1,000 words, write for one hour, etc. In my writing life, I have not had much success at following guidelines. I have, instead, embraced the take-it-as-it-comes method. So far, that has worked for me. Regimenting my writing seems in direct opposition to the joy I find in writing and the process I have established.
And yet, there is something to be said for the soothing nature of constancy. In this world that seems to be changing at an ever-rapid pace, I relish the constant aspects of my life. I traveled home recently to Montana. I waited eagerly for my first glimpse of the mountains, the sky, the clouds. I know it sounds cliché, but everything truly is different in the West. As the plane approached my city, the moon was a brilliant orange, a clear sign of smoke from forest fires. After passing through a cloud bank, the luminescent moon had disappeared and I could barely make out the shadows of the mountains. As I got off the plane, there was a moment between the plane and the jet-way where I could smell the air and it was fresh with the scent of pine and home. I could feel all the cares from the East start to melt away.
On the drive home with my parents, cloud lightning ricocheted above from cloud to cloud, illuminating the mountains. However, I never feel as though I am truly home until that first morning when I look out the windows and see the view that I looked at, and took for granted, for eighteen years. This year, I gave thanks for that constancy in my life. For still being able to return to my childhood home. For old friends. For finding such tremendous joy out of the beauty of my home. For no matter where I go, I realize Montana will always be my home. And the constancy of that is soothing.
© Ramona Flightner
