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<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nMark, thanks so much for asking about Charlotte Lit\u2019s upcoming two-day writing retreat. This is our first out-of-town offering since before the pandemic, and I\u2019m excited to be able to host the event at my farm in East Bend, NC, an easy 90-minute drive from Charlotte. The focus of the weekend will be on deepening our writing practices by reconnecting with the natural world. I\u2019ve listed event details below, but I wanted to first offer some background on the genesis of the venue\u2014which is also my home.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Almost three years ago, a life-long friend, who happens to work in real estate, took me out to celebrate my 56th<\/sup> birthday. While we sipped prosecco and munched crackers slathered with crab dip, her phone pinged relentlessly with inquiries about a property she\u2019d just listed. After the fifth or sixth interruption, I asked to see photos\u2014an act of idle curiosity, or so I thought.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I wasn\u2019t in the market for a move, much less the purchase of a 32-acre farm in Yadkin County, NC. Or, I should say, my rational, goal-oriented, ego-bound personality, the part of me that usually runs the show, wasn\u2019t in the market. Some other less conscious and apparently far more powerful parts must have been waiting a long time for such a left-field opportunity; before I could blink, much less think, they had my Jane Doe forged on a purchase contract with a closing date less than two months away.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n To say this decision surprised my family and friends is an understatement. I astonished myself, which is something I don\u2019t do very much. I do, however, try to stay in close communication with my inner world and the often-competing demands of the archetypal forces who make up that rich and varied continent. But, like everyone, I can get stuck in my head. So, the inner council gathered (without Ego) and ruled that a radical reconnection with the natural world was critical. I\u2019d say I had no choice, but the truth is I\u2019ve learned to trust this kind of deep knowing. Weirdly, the more out of leftfield a hit is, the fiercer its mandate, the more sure I am of its authenticity and rightness.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The fully-connected me, what C. G. Jung calls the \u201cSelf,\u201d knew writer me needed to sink her feet into pasture grass, plant fields full of flowers, follow a trail through the woods and down to the river to watch the bald eagles build up their nest. Capital S-Self said, \u201cGo, build a retreat; invite other writers to come and play.\u201d And, so, I did.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Which brings us to today: Over the last three years, and with lots of help, I\u2019ve renovated the property\u2019s 1883 farmhouse, added gardens and two miles of hiking trails, and built a labyrinth on the property\u2019s highest point. I call this place Innisfree after W.B. Yeats\u2019 famous poem (with thanks to Erin Belieu for the suggestion). One day there\u2019ll be classroom space and a lodge for hosting overnight guests, but the land is waiting\u2014it always has been\u2013\u2013and it\u2019s calling your name.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n