I would like to say I've spent the last two years at
the top of a mountain in a hut, deep within my spiritual core. High in the mist finding that wiseness that belongs to ancient grandmothers throughout time.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kTqbrVRXvvh8IGp025rSYaOD50YPdRn8qyP_xY0dfNVnRfQ4fQ1-cOzq1AKx39tLzIRGoEveiWM39cpBv_6TxrsAy7TqYLVp2P8mdsfOsWzZZ8-rJjZm10u_rkFiSD0EYLwugg7kk-8/s320/blog+hut+in+mist.jpg)
But alas I only find myself grayer, my jeans roomier, my mind a bit slower. It's true I've finally finished writing a book that will soon be published and am hard at work on another and I've built a casita in the desert and collected rusted metal from abandoned mines in the Cerbat Mountains and made art with my nearest neighbor out there.
But the serenity and wisdom I associate with the ancient women of the world still eludes me. And I still cannot make a souffle or ride my bike with no hands. I have not achieved the picture of the woman in my childhood books, the one who holds the key to happiness, longevity and the bank accounts.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8V-Nx7oHmeB_8GWCS2-fQ2W_SPkrOavmejTDhe9d3hyphenhyphen6XFhTmV0C8LdNmjFZwdqtKNnchGYuI9bt9JhLviIx7wO3mRe-_Zfy_pZGySMbpK2KUBPy6zmi8Z9RIgj3OO2iKt3SLQjqU8vI/s320/blog+grandmother.jpg)
I'll keep striving. Surely it's all just around the corner.
I'll keep striving. Surely it's all just around the corner.