Earthquakes happen around the world all the time, but they’re pretty unusual in Northwest Arkansas. Several years ago we felt one that rolled through our town from Oklahoma (thanks, fracking). Last night, another one woke me up where I was sleeping at Dairy Hollow Writers Colony in Eureka Springs.

There’s a road that runs right next to the building I’m staying in, and while I was reading before bed I noticed I could feel a slight tremor when a truck went by, so when I was awakened I remember thinking “wow, that’s a BIG truck”, but I rolled over and went back to sleep. It wasn’t until I saw a post on Facebook this morning that I realized it was an earthquake. It was centered near Gassville, Arkansas, which is only 83 miles from me.

As is typical at a retreat of any kind, I’m thinking a lot about the thing that I’m here to focus on – my writing. I brought my laptop, a couple of different notebooks, my planner, a little pencil bag full of colored pens, and my steel tumbler to keep me hydrated. Also, an assortment of reading material for the times when writing isn’t happening, and a jar containing some milkweed which is currently feeding three monarch caterpillars… like you do.

Anyway, thinking about writing and feeling earthquakes in my sleep seems kind of magical somehow. Earthquakes, and their resulting chaos, have often been used as a metaphor for times in our lives when stuff needs to be thrown out of balance so that we can put it back together and focus on rebuilding, making things stronger, etc… experiencing an earthquake on night one of my retreat? Hmmm. Well-played, Universe.