While here at this beautiful sea, during this time of ‘wait and see’, I published my first book- my life blood- 6 days ago. My wallet was stolen 2 weeks before, and while waiting for my 401 check to clear my physical possessions were sold off to strangers, 4 days ago.
I should’ve budgeted better and been more financially responsible, but a mental breakdown and night in jail weren’t accounted for in my ledger.
20,000 physical miles I have travelled since leaving Texas, this past scorching August.
So many things I am thankful for- quiet lush forest walks with deer, the American road stretched out before me, hope reveling in summer abundance. Some things I would change, words I would take back in a heartbeat- since leaving my career in June. This year has left me forever changed.
It already feels forever, a different person, a former life, ago.
Was it the right choice to have let most of my worldly goods be sold off, without asking for help? Do I make this quandary known? This sacrifice feels more personal than so much I’ve already laid bare to be seen, ignored, or judged by strangers, by friends, fake friends, and Fate.
I also thought I would have a home by now. The plan was to move to Portland, then later to San Francisco, or now is it to some obsequious city in the near future?
I am still in thankful disbelief brought, now that these words are finally printed in paper and on screen. In this experience of a lifetime, there have been many unintended sacrifices, shock, & endings along the way.
I didn’t plan to keep traveling for this long, and I bravely fear I may have made a huge mistake. Or have I set myself Even farther into the depths of liberation?
Dangling now, past the safety of coral reef and into the the open sea. Will we ever be truly free? Do the freed captives still carry within them a secret mark, a scar that unconsciously pervades each movement and step? Can others see the healed inner wounds? Sensing the tender hearts, Smelling the blood, chum bait for shark’s prey. We, who have been broken to pieces, bend more gently when reassembled.
Come tear my limbs, my life asunder. Aricnade, knit the web, strands only seen in the reflection of moon beams and dew drops. Is this seeking, this journeying forward assuring my future or ensuring financial disaster?
I need to space my words out. Need more lines to see clearly, and let breathe the sinews in great big gulps of waves upon the sand. Each Star a footprint, each life turning back into the sand and dust which comprise these fledgling bones. We are more than sands and bags of flesh.
The cruel twist of irony that our own beauty is hidden from us.
We live ensconced in mirrors, filters, and black screens. Never truly, justly reflects the beauty that lies within.
To what purpose, extent, do I reveal my hand? I feel more at ease laying out the flushes and the bluffs, heart on my sleeve, letting the confidence the judgment fall as it may. Thankful I have the time, the ability, the privilege to ask, to debate, contemplate, these words, these unnecessary projections. I am thankful for the ocean. For the glorious sunlight. Thankful for the birds, for butterflies, for winged things that set sail and fling themselves through Air and above the Earth.
Will I even heed my own advice- that there is always something more that there is always another way??
Is this the way I would’ve have chosen? Glass is hardened sand and both are illusions, after all. Neither death, or change do I fear, any longer. Whatever happens Gimme Shelter or Gimme Death.