I found at an early age that I did like the quiet of nature, which isn’t really that quiet. There is just something about being able to hear birdsong, the breeze going through the trees, or the sound of water wearing out the land that has grounded me and my thoughts. After I opened a show I had a ritual that I would go somewhere quiet for a long walk to let go off all the pressure I had been under and flip my brain from rehearsal to running a show.

I've used that. In spring 1999 I was going from a really busy week at my newspaper job in Northeastern Oregon to my brother's(1) wedding in Philadelphia, and I felt the need to re-set my head. I was flying out via Portland, so I drove first to Portland and then kept driving until I got to the Coast, just over an hour further down the road. Stood looking at and listening to the Pacific for a bit before heading back flying out. Breathed different air, listened to different noise, and felt more prepared for the trip and the wedding. Which was a really good one (and resulted in a really good marriage for him).

(The bachelor party was in Atlantic City, so what I wish I'd also done was get out for a bit and stand on the Atlantic coast, too. I'd've been at two oceans, 3,000 miles apart, in only a couple of days, and that appealed to my sense of symmetry. Still. Oceans calm me.)

(1) My brother's T.J., and by the way he was who introduced me to Peter's work.