Update: Having finished this book, I'm awarding Woiwode's artfully written autobiography a strong A. When I "writer" writes his own story, the burden to produce something wonderful is heavy, and Woiwode carries it off with exceptional poise and nuance in What I Think I Did. Highly recommended, especially if you write.
In What I Think I Did, by Larry Woiwode, I just read this:
The patterns of the scribbled multitude of twigs and the matching gaps of designated light in sequence to the movement of the limbs were as much a song as mine. This was the earth, its trees in their multitude of beauty, twigs to branches to trunks, brimming with voices about to break into speech. I was in a grip greater than my mother's hand, and tears of laughter leaped out like the presences I expected to see.
One presence was here, I knew, as I turned with my face raised, in the trees and sky, and in the earth that held me as I turned. The presence had put all this in place to instruct me about myself and the complications of the love I felt for Him.
So the earth has a voice, one which is intended to point us to God and teach us to talk with him in our own, broken language. We walk through creation, feeling as if we're not really alone, perhaps, and we're not. This is the first time I've read Woiwode, and he's good.
Flashbacks: Trees Talk About Eternity & Rest
Mountain Haunting
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