Dry Spell

If you’re reading this in the Southeast, you know that we’ve been in a severe drought. My little area in North Carolina is between 8 and 12 inches below average. Spring showers have been playing coy, and any precipitation we’ve gotten has been minuscule, just enough to moisten the pollen but not enough to quench the dry soil very deeply.

We got a few sprinkles over the last couple of days; perhaps this dry spell is breaking. Let’s all hope so, for the sake of my ungerminated wildflower seeds and stagnating pond. As a writer and someone who constantly reflects on life, I see the similarities between this dry spell in our state and the one in my life. Much like the conditions required for significant precipitation, life requires perfect timing and myriad factors all coalescing to produce those short-lived moments of alignment.

I’m hoping my current personal drought is coming to an end. Although my situation hasn’t changed, I feel my mindset is shifting in positive directions. As you’re reading this, I’m entering my first full day of a retreat for veterans near Charleston, South Carolina. I was thankful to be asked to participate in this and desperately needed the rest and refit this “return to base” provides.

When help is offered, you take it, and I did. I’m hoping this moment to get away from my routine for a few days will offer respite from the mental spiraling I’ve been doing while trying to figure out my next steps. The thought of sitting under a live oak with a book sounds amazing right about now. As it turns out, rain is in the forecast for my retreat. A little precipitation has never slowed me down and often helps to make an adventure more noteworthy, so bring it on.

I hope that, given time to rest, I can unclutter my mind a bit and start to develop a way forward for myself. Spending time around a campfire with other veterans always helps to shift my perspective. It often ignites some of that fire inside of me that lately has been flickering.

Lately, I’ve been trying hard to make more personal connections at the risk of coming across like some weird online weirdo. I’ve been reaching out to folks who live nearby and exist similarly in the creative space. The idea is to find a community that is tangible and not predicated on a Wi-Fi connection, you know, like the old days.

Don’t get me wrong, I cherish the virtual groups I’m a part of, like the Patrol Base Abbate book club and writing classes I teach, and the one I take when given by a good friend. But there’s something about sharing a meal or a cup of coffee in real time that hits just a little differently.

I don’t have any profound words of wisdom this week. I’m just praying for rain to quench my soul. I’m excited to embark on this trip a few hours south and commune with the Spanish moss and coastal winds. I’m hoping that when I remove myself from the endless list of projects and work stressors, I’ll be able to see the path unfolding in front of me and then know which way to go. Here’s hoping!

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Stan Lake is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker based in Bethania, North Carolina. His work has appeared in Dead Reckoning Collective, The Havok Journal, Reptiles Magazine, Lethal Minds Journal, and other outlets, and he directed Hammer Down, a documentary about his 2005 deployment in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom with Alpha Battery 5-113th of the North Carolina Army National Guard. For The Havok Journal, he often writes essays and reflections about war memory, veteran life, the outdoors, and everyday experience. You can find his books, collected works, and social media at www.stanlakecreates.com.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.