As a kid, I whipped up my share of mud pies and looked forward to summer camp and games of Kick the Can with my cousins on our grandparents’ farm. But most days I could be found inside, nose in a book. Sometimes my parents would find me reading on the staircase on the way up to my bedroom—apparently too eager to turn the page to find a proper chair. I’d stay like that for hours. My hometown in eastern Iowa was light on adventure, so I cultivated my imagination through the exploits of the characters in my books, from Laura Ingalls Wilder to the Boxcar Children.
When I lived in Washington, D.C., words consumed my days as a magazine editor, so I didn’t read much fiction. Instead I escaped to the city’s art museums, finding respite from the stresses of city life in the brushstrokes of the masters. During my last year there, I also started practicing yoga frequently, attending as many as four or five classes a week—slipping out of the office over the lunch hour and planning my commute around studio schedules. I had never been more stressed or more flexible.
A few months after relocating to Asheville, I realized my yoga practice had largely fallen by the wayside. How could it be that my devotion had wavered in, of all places, a city that Yoga Journal named one of the country’s top 10 yoga-friendly towns? I came to understand that my lifestyle here felt so much more balanced that I no longer felt the same urgency to constantly hit refresh. Especially during the first few months of living in Western North Carolina, I explored the surrounding trails as often as I could. My husband and I moved here without knowing a soul, but the forests and mountains provided all the assurance we needed of our decision. Sometimes we made friends while hiking or biking; other times we simply connected with our new home.
When we let it, sense of place can sustain us; its opportunities can fill in the gaps in our lives. For that matter, our surroundings have the power to make us better, more well-rounded people. Southern Appalachia is particularly rich in motivation, whether your spirit seeks peace or purpose, direction or diversion.
In this issue of Smoky Mountain Living, we present a variety of ways that this region can help you feel more grounded, balanced, and engaged. Even for the resolution-averse, the ideas in this issue guarantee to help get the new year off on the right foot, from author Will Harlan’s resolution to discover all 54 constellations visible from Southern Appalachia to the pledge of Cassius Cash, the superintendent of Great Smoky Mountains National Park, to get his hands dirty in service of the park.
My own sense of harmony comes from responding to the forces in my life. When my mind needs stimulation, I read more or travel somewhere new. When distractions drown out my inner monologue, I focus on my breath—whether in a yoga class, in the woods, or even while stirring dinner for my family.
Sometimes listening to ourselves means making hard choices. For me right now, that means stepping down as managing editor in order to focus more fully on my family and my writing. My parting wish is that 2017 brings us all closer to a state of equilibrium.
— Katie Knorovsky, managing editor