If Finland is the only place I can think, I'm in trouble.

Although I am but an auxiliary member of the vispo workshop here at Saari, this experience has inspired me and made me better realize my place in the artistic universe.

Being here has allowed me the luxury of time, for one thing. Many people envy the life of a teacher in the U.S., since we pretty much enjoy two months of vacation each summer. What people don't realize, however, is that much of that time is eaten up by other things. It is vacation time, but not vacation, if that makes sense. When I am home, I am still responsible for all that I am normally responsible for while I am working, and perhaps more since I am the one not working. So yes, I have more free time. Nevertheless, for me it is hard to use that time to focus on projects that interest me personally and artistically; rather, I end up focusing on projects that need to be done. If I could dip in and out of my artistic life easily, turning it on and turning it off as necessary, then I might be able to be highly productive. I am, however, a person who (while forced into multi-tasking in my work day, and able to succeed at it), does not enjoy it and is really incapable of sustaining a mind open to new personal projects while doing it.

And if I were better at this, I would have been able to sustain my poetic self during the years I was trying to raise my children at home and succeed at my job. This is not a complaint; I have two great, strong, smart, kind, successful kids, and I have enjoyed professional success and personal satisfaction by teaching my students the best I can. So. But my time here at Saari has allowed me the freedom to experience and think and consider and process for probably the first time ever.

For some reason, one morning last week, everything coalesced, all the little (seemingly disjointed) pieces of my artistic life into the realization that for the last year and a half (since I've found it essential again to regain my poetic voice), I've focused on the aural.

I realized that lately, I keep trying to record and document interesting sounds, whether they are the bells of Venice, the swifts and cows of Mietoinen, or the slang of my students and their funny slant on life. I love the grunts and groans of Anglo-Saxon vocabularies and naturally incorporate them into my writing. As I realized this, my musical background suddenly jumped up and said, Hey! How could you forget all the years you spent playing piano, cello, bassoon, guitar, percussion? And I totally forgot about my participation in the Red Hook Collective for Deep Noise or Raucous Sounds or Sketchy Noises in the Dark or Bleeding Ears . . . whatever we've decided to call it that week.

It seems so obvious now, but it was not to me.

A small epiphany, perhaps, but one I would not have had if I had been home thinking about whether I should paint the fence, weed the garden, take the dogs to the vet, go to the grocery store, etc. etc. etc. Certainly attending the presentations has helped move my brain from the literal to the figurative and provided me with many possibilities for my own work.

I now have a list of four projects I'm desperately interested in and can't wait to start. My first task is to buy a nice Olympus digital recorder I think will serve my purposes well. In the meantime, I will relish my time here at Saari and hope that all who have contributed to this experience understand my appreciation and gratitude.