Wanted

I woke this morning in the darkest corner of a Hamilton Inns parking lot at 5:32 a.m. somewhere just east of Asheville, NC. I drove around to thaw out my toes and watched the steam rise off the sycamore-lined lakeshore to meet the rosy waking sky in this mountain town. I sort of feel that worn, gritty, bon jovi-esqe edge this morning, like, maybe I'm a cowboy, living on a prayer--or maybe i just need a haircut and a bold cup of coffee. in any case, i found myself up before sunrise with rumpled clothes and a crick in my neck.

Asheville is big. i didn't expect it to be this big. (oooh, there i go having my expectations!). Apparently, the center of town hosts a large city hall, where wireless is beamed down onto the town square for anyone to use while sitting outside in the sunshine against the softly rolling horizon. I think i'll be heading there today, to see who might want to talk with me. Okay, so maybe i'm a space cowboy who's relatively social and who's put her spurs in her pocket. but i still have spurs, in case.

WAIT! i think i'm romanticizing this whole independence thing. It's my first real day out on my own this trip (with a few lone days ahead) and as much as I love it, crave it, even need it, I wouldn't have it without everyone who has prepared me for this all, starting simply with my mom and dad, who got me to this planet in the first place, and ending most recently with my dear friends turtle and susan who created a chariot out of a pumpkin so that i could venture off and create my own fairytale. So, thanks, all of y'all, for believing in me. i think i get it. hooray. yee haw.

re-creating california

I woke up this morning to California skies: bright blue, no clouds, full of winds moving eastward with intention. I know this day came from the west, despite the sun's rise in the east. It is the meeting of where I began and where I am. And the synergy moves me... I'm getting in a car in a few hours and moving with the wind: east out of atlanta, into the mountains of appalachia. I don't have a plan outside of recieving what comes towards me, and I'm discovering that to be quite a challenge.

I know I've promised stories of the new people i'm encountering on this trip; indeed, I started with the idea that I'd witness the abundance of creativity, hope and love that the people across this country have to share, and that I'd relate it to you through this space. I also knew that this trip would impact me in ways I could not possibly imagine, and this morning I've been hit. I want to share the stories of people I've met, but i can't get past the stories that are happening to me. This trip is happening through me, despite me, and because of me...that last part is the hardest thing for me to understand. It is so difficult to accept that people are talking to me, sharing their lives with me, and contributing to this thing that I think is important. And so, i'm acknowledging that this is coming through me, and this is how it's been:

Over the past two days, several people have come forward to help me out of feeling stuck. Like I said, I stepped into this endeavor not knowing what would happen, and saying that I was taking on my "belief" that the world is an abundant place, and that it would provide for me, despite my lack of security, or knowledge as to what was going to happen next. But I'm finding that I can't believe it when the world meets me with what I need. I am so resistant to anyone giving me anything. I want to cry as each person sits down to talk with me. I want to run away when people offer me a place to stay. I want to protest when someone insists on buying me dinner, or giving me money. I want to deserve it, and I don't deserve it. I'll be indebted to all these beautiful, generous people, and there's nothing I can give them to match their gift to me.

How do you make good on a gift? I'm realizing that part of being generous, part of being in this world occurs in the receiving of it all. I find that i exert so much energy in either putting myself out there, or hiding myself away from it all that i rarely take the time to be aware of being received and receiving in return. I spend so much time wondering if anyone really Gets Me. and then, when someone does get me, and in doing so, wants to give back to me, i can't handle it. what does it mean? what do i do now? who am i if i'm actually in this world and not just a person trying to be in this world?

I'm slowly beginning to understand something that the non-brain of me already knows: there is peace in paradox. This trip is happening because of me, and it has nothing to do with me. The generosity being shown to me is not for me. I need to receive it so that it can move freely through this world. I need to receive so that I can give. It has nothing to do with me deserving any of this. It has everything to do with me participating in the world as a small piece of a much bigger organism. I am vital, and I contribute vitality to something much larger than me. That vitality is dependent on how open I choose to be. So I'll receive, and let myself go...

sunning in the southlands

Here I am in atlanta, set up on the front porch, coffee mug in hand, songbirds serenading me from towering sumac, oak and maple trees while the west wind brings in horsetail clouds and whispers of thunderstorms. It feels like the time to slow down. The past 4 days have been draped in bright yellow and green road signs, golden arches, red dust and pollen stained windshields as my friend turtle and i have followed the grey paved path of I-40 across the country. Interstates instill a sense of urgency, i've noticed: everyone needs to be getting somewhere, and: why aren't we all there yet? Why is it we don't ever have what we want? we're goaded into thinking that maybe we can find it at the next exit, because not only is there a mc donalds, but also a wendy's, a waffle house, a krystal burger, and a taco bell. and don't worry, if you're too busy to stop for food, you can just jack yourself up on one of 13 varieties of caffeine-laden cornsyruped beverages to add to that sense of urgency, convieniently located in the refrigerated section of the gas station (because you have to stop to fuel your vehicle, if not yourself).

But here, on the front porch, things feel a little less urgent; in fact, time seems to get lost in the humidity, and made inconsequential by the cloudburst. the stories i've collected in the past few days will find there way here shortly, like the sunbeams will eventually find their way through the clouds and warm the sweetness from the honeysuckle and magnolia blooms... (more tomorrow, i promise!)...

Going and Coming

Some folks say that your trip begins when you commit to it. If that's the case, I've already embarked on my journey. I bought my plane ticket to Durango last night. I'm leaving San Francisco on Thursday, May 12, and arriving, in the southwest, during the first few minutes of Friday the 13. Why Durango? Well, why not? (Oh, okay, you want the truth? the voices told me to go there....). Why Friday the 13th? Well, I think somehow, this trip is all about giving up my preconcieved notions of just about everything. Instead of listening to Friday the 13th as freaky, unlucky, suspicious and mischievous, I could experience it as generative, inspiring, fortuitous, and generous. I just have to give up what i think i know and be completely clear of expectation...then, really, who knows what will show up? Friday the 13th can just be a series of events, from which i can deduce whatever it is i want to deduce and make it mean whatever i want it to mean. I can file all those meanings away for reference, or i can just let them set with the sun, and wait for the beginning of the next day.

So today I began my goodbyes at work. I gave the garden over to two beautiful volunteers, who will dilgently till, water, plant and harvest the summer/fall crops. As i toured them around the grounds and through the greenhouse, i imagined what the garden would look like in 3 months. I've just spent the past 3 days planting seeds with all the students at my school, excitedly explaining about all the new varieties of pumpkins, heirloom tomatoes, native corn, and african gourds that would come to life in our little sun bowl of a garden. I won't see them develop. I won't stand in awe inside the 12 foot high sunflower house with the sky blue ceiling; i won't taste the dramatic difference between the 4 varieties of strawberries, or delight in sharing bouquets of flowers and baskets of raspberries with my neighbors. My heart sobbed in my chest during the whole meeting, and i doubted why i was leaving.

And then I remembered the vision I had that started this whole trip manifestation in the first place: I saw a tree behind my eyelids, and i followed it, from the sturdy roots, up its solid trunk, out its graceful branches, past its leaves and to its blossoms--and then i felt the wind, and watched as it picked the pollen from the blooms and carried it away. I knew then and i remember now that it's my time to go out and instigate the growth all sorts of fruit, so the bounty can be shared more widely, and even more seeds can be planted next season. I can only hope that I'll be well-received...