I have been living out of my car since March 1. I have been exploring the country, my past, and my soul during most of my off-shifts. Since I last wrote, I have made many life changing decisions that I am now excited to share.
I believe few can write as eloquently as Paulo Coelho, so I will use his words from The Pilgrimage to explain what my journey since March has meant to me:
When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don't even understand the language people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favor from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life.
At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive. That's why a religious pilgrimage has always been one of the most objective ways of achieving insight. The word 'peccadillo,' which means "small sin" comes from 'pecus,' which means "defective foot," a foot that is incapable of walking a road. The way to correct the pecadillo is always to walk forward, adapting oneself to new situations and receiving in return all of the thousands of blessings that life generously offers to those who seek them.
While my journey has not been a religious one in the sense of which Coelho speaks, my journey since March has been spiritual, indeed. Time and time again, I have experienced every aspect of what Coelho describes. I love the feeling of freedom that I experience on the open road: alone, free to follow whatever whim overcomes me.
My summer began with a trip from Oregon to Los Angeles. I absolutely love the Northern California coast. I just may have to retire on a sheep farm one day. I drove for 6 days along the coast until arriving at my sister's house in LA. I was much overdue for a vacation and that time alone exploring the Redwoods and the beaches was a refreshing change of pace from living with teenagers in the wilderness. The loneliness was comforting, if you can fathom the meaning of this statement.
I stopped in magical place after magical place, snapping pictures in hopes of being able to share the mysticism. Of course, none of my pictures serve any of the places justice. In fact, I am a horrible photographer. (The majority of the photos on this blog entry were taken by my sister; at least the really good ones were.) It took me a few days to truly settle into the solitude and accept that I had no obligations or responsibilities to any one other than myself.
After the fifth day alone, I found myself anxious to reach my sister. Deborah is my best friend, my teacher, my healer. Her little house and courtyard proved to be a sanctuary where I was able to rest and bathe.
After LA, I drove to Death Valley, a place I have wanted to visit for years. I allowed myself only one day in the
National Park, which was a rookie mistake. I had to get on the road to make it back to Bend in time for my next shift. As I drove North, away from sunny and warm Southern California, I inevitably returned to the snowy cold of Oregon. I longed to return to Death Valley where I could play in 90 degree temperatures.
So, I asked Deborah to meet me there on my next free week to explore the park with me. True to her spontaneous nature, Deborah agreed. So, I drove the 16 hours back to Death Valley and we were able to enjoy two full days playing, like two little girls, throughout the sand dunes, ghost towns, ancient ocean beds, craters and canyons. I would trade nothing for that weekend.
I spent my next free week in New Orleans with my dear, dear friend Claire. I was anxious about this visit. It was my first since October of 2005 when I retrieved what was left of my belongings after Katrina. I was comforted by the familiar culture. I visited all of my old stomping grounds and danced for three days straight at Jazz Fest. Jazz Fest is where my relationship with New Orleans began and I am grateful that I was able to share another one with Claire and her
Fest Crew.
My next trip was to Flagstaff, AZ. I immediately remembered why I fell in love with Northern Arizona as I drove from the Phoenix airport. My dear friend Keith and his precious pup Lambo entertained me for a few days before I drove to Albuquerque. I was surprised at how Albuquerque actually brought up more feelings of grief for me than did New Orleans. My energy was thoroughly drained by the time I arrived. I struggled to feel peace or affection for the city where my heart began healing and where my relationships with some of the most important people in my life began. By the time I returned to Bend from this emotional trip, I was feeling more lost than I had ever imagined I could feel. I was convincing myself that Flagstaff is where I wanted to be and feeling unsettled about returning to work and spending another moment in Oregon. At the same time, I began to realize that I am still grieving the loss of my relationship with Daniel. This realization hit me hard and took me completely off guard. I knew I needed to slow down my travels and be still for a moment.
So, I did a solo backpacking trip in the Opal Creek area of Oregon. I spent two nights along a crystal clear creek allowing my mind to run its course with the myriad of thoughts that were clouding any hint of clarity. I then treated myself to two nights and three days at Breitenbush Hot Springs, a personal retreat center about an hour North of Bend. This place was magnificent and 100% exactly what the doctor ordered. I spent my time soaking in the thermal healing waters, or in the steam sauna, or eating the most unbelievable and tasty food I have ever eaten, or laying on rocks by the river, or hiking in the mystical forest, or coloring in my coloring book, or doing yoga, or napping in the grass. It was divine intervention. And with that one off-shift, I was able to clear my mind and accept the fact that I have absolutely everything I need within myself. I felt as if I had undergone a spiritual rebirth.
This is where the story begins to get unbelievable. I began trying to figure out where I could settle down. Where would be the place where I would establish roots and pursue my professional dreams? Flagstaff was my best guess thus far and I spent many a daydream fantasizing my future life in that perfect little high desert mountain town. Then, it was time for my next vacation and it was to be spent in good ol' South Carolina. Yes, the place from which I have been running for 6 years now. The place where I swore I do not belong and would never live again. The place that I blamed for all of my inadequacies. I made a pact with myself that I would pass no judgments of myself on this vacation. I was looking forward to seeing my family and traveling to visit many dear friends during my three weeks on the East Coast. I was in no way prepared for what was about to happen.
I was so happy to be picked up by my Mom at the Charlotte airport and to get to catch up with her on the drive back to Hartsville. I felt the normal discomfort with being back in the town in which I grew up; anxious about bumping into familiar faces and trying to explain my work and life in Oregon. To my surprise, I found myself feeling as if I was seeing things for the very first time. I was intrigued by the Southern architecture and Southern culture. After visiting my Grandmother and kayaking in Black Creek, I found myself thinking about the teenage culture in Hartsville. I started thinking about how the kids in Hartsville could benefit from the type of educational program that I dream of creating. I let the thoughts pass and focused on reveling in my parents attention and affection. We drove to Myrtle Beach and spent an entire week with Deborah, my brother Trey and his growing family. I had a blast and felt so grateful for humid, hot days playing in the sand and floating in the warm ocean. When the time came, I was horrified to be leaving. I cried saying goodbye to my family and to the sea. I once again found myself thinking about the benefit my future program could have on the youth of South Carolina.
From there, I traveled for a week visiting friends in the Upstate and in Georgia. I met up once again with my parents in Boone, NC before returning to Bend for another week in the field. I had the most difficult week of my career that week. I couldn't figure out why I was so emotional and why I didn't want to be there. I had never been at work and felt like I would rather be anywhere in the world than in that desert with those kids. As always happens, though, the epiphany arose and clarity once again settled in my mind. I was about to make the biggest decision I have made so far in my short life.
I desire to establish roots in a place that fosters my physical and spiritual health. My week of the solo backpack trip and personal retreat at the hot springs had enlightened me to the fact that within my own body and mind is where my physical and spiritual health will be fostered. So, where I physically live really doesn't matter. This leaves only the "roots" part of my desires to be considered. And my vacation had just reminded me of where my roots are and have been for generations before me. Duh. I can't rip out my roots and replant them. My roots exist and are deep (and I mean deep) right there in South Carolina. I don't need to find a place for my roots, I simply need to return to my roots. Yes. There it is. There is the decision.
I am about to enter my last week of working at Second Nature in Bend, Oregon. I will drive away from Oregon on September 1, once again free on the open road with all of my belongings driving straight into the great unknown. This is what I do best, see. I am so excited and nervous and sad all at the same time. The best part of all about this is that my Mom, yes Pam Cox, will be on that road with me. I am so honored and grateful that my Mom is willing to even entertain the idea of a road trip like this with me. I am going to explore new places with Mom and introduce her to the many great places that have taught me so much about life and love and who I am and how I fit into to the big picture of human existence. It is going to be a whole new "pilgrimage" that I will share with the woman who brought me into this world. Two free, independent women surviving from one state to the next. Unbelievable. I warned you.
I said it. I would fight through the winter and plan my flight. I had no clue it would work out in this way. And now that it is happening, so quickly and spontaneously, it feels to me as if it was written. As if my whole life, up until now, has been preparing me for this moment all along.
