Guest Blog: Find Your Creek

by Joann Storck

Indian Creek

Where is that one place you can go, or that one thing you can do that whisks you away from ringing phones, dirty windows and floors, a nagging spouse, the responsibility of an aging parent, a work assignment, an empty wallet … you get the picture. 

We all have that one place where we lose aching bodies and weary minds, which we can switch to OFF, and become oblivious to the world around us.  For some it's golf.  Or it might be charity work, a good book or magazine, dancing, writing, a walk in the woods, creating art, or being encircled by children.  Whatever you choose, there’s only one rule about “finding your creek”: no other thoughts can get into your blissful mind.  Remember, you’re shut off!  You’re almost in a vaporous state and no one can see you or talk to you.  For me, finding my creek is literally where I go to achieve all the above.  Because at my creek, I find the most exhilarating, puzzling, positively incredible ROCKS! 

What enchanting things are rocks!  Come on, they’re ages old, and why do some sparkle like they do?  Is there GOLD in them thar’ rocks?  Ooooooh, this one could be an Indian artifact!  Yikes!  I just picked up a piece of amethyst right here in my creek bed.  Wow, I love the blue slate pieces that I use to decorate around my flower garden.   Not to sound obsessive over this, but I have spent as much as 7 hours at a time in my personal teleportation “creek.”  Don’t laugh!  All these things I have experienced at my creek.  Well, the jury is still out on the gold, but that’s beside the point. 

My late husband’s “creek” was also our creek, but for a different reason.  He told me that he could hear the voices of long ago Indians whispering about how the Englais’ had ruined beautiful spots like this with their never-ending expansions.  He would lose himself, thanks to his love for Indian lore, and forget all about his crushing illness as he explored the creek with walking stick in hand and his faithful dog at his side – or swimming like any Golden Retriever will do.

Oddly enough, I recently met a man who is consumed by the same obsession that I am.  It definitely is his “creek,” but he’s lucky enough to pursue Oblivion for six months at a time.  That made my own 7-hr. distraction pitiful by comparison.  I thought we would make a perfect match:

      “Honey, what do you want me to fix for dinner?”

      “Don’t worry about cooking.  Let’s go to the creek for hours on end and then order in, Honey!”   
 

It didn’t happen.  But the great thing is that going to your “creek” all by yourself really is the best medicine.  

Go find your creek!