I recently visited Alaska to hold two public events for my book, Whispers from the Valley of the Yak. As always, being back in Alaska makes me happy – it’s my soul place.

I lived in Alaska for just under five years, what seems like a heartbeat now, but it changed my life. After a childhood ruled by my mother’s periodic verbal rages, I found in Alaska the healing power of nature. There, amidst the stunning mountain beauty that promised outdoor adventure, my heart began to open. I also found my passion for environmental work and better understood what I wanted from life. 

Everything that came after leaving Alaska, including my embrace of the mountainous landscapes in western China, was influenced in some way by Alaska. That’s because I approached life in a more intentional way, wanting to create a life that was authentic for me. 

When I returned last year after a long absence, my long-buried emotions at having to leave Alaska came flooding to the surface. (See Sense of Place blog post.) Alaska has been in my heart frequently ever since.

This past summer I began arranging events for the weeks and months after my book’s late September release. I decided to hold them in places meaningful to me, where I’d lived or had family and long-time friends. Alaska was on this list, as were several Vermont towns, Concord, New Hampshire (my home before Vermont), and Bellingham, Washington, where my son lives.

I realized last winter – too late to make substantive changes – that nothing about my book’s cover conveys any connection to my soul place. As I planned my presentations for the first events, I realized I would need to revise my remarks for Alaska.

As autumn proceeded, I enjoyed each of my scheduled events, as well as the college reunion I attended. It felt good to at last interact directly with people rather than communicate through social media. My conversations were all rewarding, especially those with my college friends, whom I hadn’t seen in fifty years.

Arriving in Alaska for the final events of my tour, I tackled the task of describing the impact the state had on my life. Although I had good conversations at both events, the second was most memorable.

This bookstore event involved book signing only. I’d been concerned about this – would anyone buy a book without a presentation?

For three hours I sat at a table in a prominent spot with books arranged on either side of me. People were clearly used to these book signings. I only had to catch their eyes and they walked over to ask what my book was about.

In response, I pushed the book forward, acknowledging it didn’t at first glance appear to have any relationship to Alaska. Then I talked about how living there had changed me. Those five years were pivotal to understanding myself better and set me on a path that led to self-fulfillment.

It was my soul-deep connection to mountains, especially wild, large-scale landscapes, that helped me heal the breach with my mother. My Alaskan experiences heightened my ability to see similar qualities in the landscapes of western China.

Sharing my deepening connections to my birth country with Mom led to better communication and mutual understanding. Most importantly for me, I found forgiveness for her and was able to release the hurt and anger I’d carried around for decades.

Memoirs encompass a specific period of the author’s life and require considerable – and at times brutal – honesty and reflection.

What I’ve just shared in these paragraphs includes a deeper understanding emerging from the ongoing processing of my life.  All these heartening, hard-won insights have made the hard work of the previous decade, as this book came to fruition, worthwhile.

Perhaps most important, in recent weeks I have felt a new joy in life, a lightness that has been missing for a very long time. And now, I can move into a new phase of life.

This is the transformative power of writing your story.