When I returned from my last Arizona trip, I was tired. I had a tired in my bones that I couldn’t shake and sure enough, a week later, I went down with whatever you want to call it – was it a virus, was it Covid, was it a summer cold – whatever it was, it took the life out of me for one week. And after, it has been a slog trying to play catch up with my spirit.
On Sunday, I took Wild Thing and went to Bay Minette to stay on a guy’s property that I found on HipCamp. There were goats, donkeys, chickens and dogs. Two of my friends came up on Monday to spend the night. I was doing my thing, getting out of my comfort zone about traveling solo without a purpose other than my pleasure.
I had so many intentions – to collage (I brought all my stuff), to hike, and to meditate. And it was hot. So hot that my small window unit A/C in the camper was working at 100% and I was starting to worry it was going to crap out. It was that hot. And it was hot everywhere – not just in the south, it was hot in Boston where Susie is, it was hot in Arizona where Tin is, it was hot in Knoxville where my friend J lives. It was just so damn hot. So a lot of my intentions went by the wayside as I tried to remain as still as possible and not pass out.
I’m in the chapter of my life where I’m trying to discover, rediscover, heal any residual harm, and find myself. It’s interesting because I always send pithy reminders to Tin that he is finding himself and it will be glorious, and yet, while I lay still in Wild Thing and contemplate finding my own self, I just don’t know where to step next.
I’m pulled in so many directions that I’m not sure where to land. As simple as gardening all the way to major projects that involve multiple concerts and outdoor public art happening at the Hall. Never mind that there is also a teenager to finish raising. So much is beckoning, and I feel so little time.
And there you find me, lying in the cot, legs up in the air, a book on one side, my journal on the other, and my mind a vast ocean of desire. Which shiny object to swim towards? Surely, all of my directions in the past have become clear in their own time – surely, I could be still and let where, who, how come to me – surely I could have faith in being still.
My comfort zone is movement – like a shark in the ocean, move or die is the mantra. Even with the Africa heat bearing down on me like a ton of weight, I lamented not moving. I drove on Wednesday morning to the Tensaw River in the historic Blakely State Park determined to hike somewhere – I drove down to the river and walked the boardwalk.
As I walked, I was enchanted by the landscape, and it was there in my moving that I found comfort and direction. I’m at the beginning, middle, end, edge of my comfort zone in some many different areas of my life. Beginning the comfort zone of opening my heart to a partner, middle comfort zone of learning to love my body despite its condition, end of comfort zone with pushing myself on the Hall, edge of my comfort zone with having faith and trust that every thing’s gonna be ok.
