...what I write about? The intersection of biology, culture, and psyche. I am interested in the various venues which lead from experience to meaning.
...what is my path? Started in Germany, transplanted to the USA, I grew roots into the soil of Western Oregon. A retired fisheries biologist and goat farmer, I now rattle the kaleidoscope of my experiences to see what wonderful new pattern might emerge.
...why I write? Firstly, because it brings joy. It is like catching a beautiful feather wafting on a breeze. Secondly, it is like deep sea exploration: a delving towards the ocean floor's thermal vents to collect still unknown species and, of course, to bring them to the surface for closer examination. Thirdly, because it is as unpredictable as herding goats: though I get to move in the intended direction, the specific path is always a surprise.
...what I write? Mainly essays and poems, with occasional forays into fiction.
...why I write poems and essays? They are the yin and yang, the left brain and the right brain, investigation and imagination. They inspire and support each other. For me, the essay it is like blanket, woven from differently textured and colored yarns which will offer warmth when the weather turns rainy and cold—as it will, as it must. A poem, however, is a surprise gift. It is a humming bird feather, flashing iridescent colors as the angle of perception changes.
...who inspires my writing? Off the top of my head: Helen Luke, Marion Woodman, Robert A. Johnson, Verena Kast, Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, Marie-Louise von Franz, Bruno von Bettelheim, the Brothers Grimm, Richard von Volkmann-Leander, Homer, Ann Linnea, Carol Gilligan, Deborah Tannen, Jane Kenyon, May Sarton, Donald Kalshed, Mary Oliver, Wendel Berry, Terry Tempest Williams, and many, many others.
...who printed my stuff? Oregon Humanities Magazine, Calyx, Women Artist's Datebook, New Verse News, Quadrant Journal, Faultlines, Gold Man Review, and others.
...how I became a writer? An unstable ladder, a broken wrist, the need to do something while recuperating, the suggestion to explore poetry, a class at the community college which had just one opening left...