There is a proliferation of writing books in America. They are very popular. People would rather read about how to become a writer than read the actual products of writing: poems, novels, short stories. Americans see writing as a way to break through their own inertia and become awake, to connect with their deepest selves.
Yes, writing can do this for us, but becoming awake is not easy. One must be persistent under all circumstances and it is not always easy. It is hard. It is a long quiet highway.
Recently, I drove alone from Minneapolis to New Mexico in late December, the darkest time of the year. I had to cross the southern border of Minnesota, drive straight through Iowa, across Kansas, into Oklahoma and Texas. I had to drive through an hour of sleet near Des Moines, past empty field and funky cafés that said Elvis ate there. . . . The half moon and one evening star were directly in front of me. A train roared by on my right. The moment was over and I was tired . . . . What I wanted was to love all of this: my weariness, the wind lifting as I got out of the car at the Texaco station.
To love is to wake up. . . . We need to wake up when we buy groceries, push the cart down the aisle, see labels, count out change, feel our step on the floor tile. Every moment is enormous, and it is all we have.
— Natalie Goldberg, Long Quiet Highway: Waking Up in America