A Soul’s Journey

I thought I was doing this nomadic living thing wrong.

Let me ask you, “Do you think I’m on vacation?” If your answer is yes, you’re not the only one.

Am I a nomad-wanna-be? I’m not partaking in touristic activities or roaming the popular sites like the fantasized expectations. Sure, there’s an aspect of me that’s upset I am not out exploring the tourist hot-spots and doing what people typically do on vacation. The other side of me is grateful I am living life in what I consider a normal manner.

Nowadays I spend my time writing, working on client’s websites, tending to domestic chores, going for hikes on the trails and driving to the grocery store to purchase food.

What I don’t understand is why does it bother me what others think I am doing on my journey.

Several days ago, I began a three hour hike asking myself for the reason I get defensive when people state they are living vicariously through me. The intention was to have my answer materialize while on the muddy trail as if walking a labyrinth.
Thank goodness for my dictation app. I’d walk a bit, unlock the screen on the cellphone and begin dictating random thoughts. Am I disappointed in myself that I’m not treating this as a vacation? Am I too much of a Negative Nilly to have fun? Is the predominant Downer Debbie that resides deep within my mind dictating my level of fun?

Enough people have shared with me how courageous I am for going on this journey alone and what I am doing takes an uncommon inner strength. To be honest, I have either phoo-phoo’d or been angered by those words because I feel anything other than courageous. It wasn’t until I composed that last sentence that I realized I have not said to myself in two weeks, “What the hell was I thinking by doing this?!” I believed daily, hell, moment to moment, I made an irreversible mistake and I’ve lost everything. And then, add to it the concept everyone thinks I’m some warrior off to lead the war on God only knows what.

Why does it bother me what others think? Because y’all think I’m out having fun and living a life of a vacationer with a full bank account (from the sale of my home), and nothing could be more to the contrary. I am not on vacation. I’ve been face-to-face with the darkest aspects of ME and trying to be civil with myself. I felt as though I had to justify why no one was invited to join me. I felt I had to defend my sorrow and grief, and why I wasn’t all joyously happy like people imagine they would be if they were in my camper instead of me.

I bit my tongue every time someone said, “I wish I could do what you’re doing.” Why? Because I would have traded lives with them in a heartbeat! Anything – everything – would have felt better than what I was enduring emotionally.

A dear friend of mine, a voice of reason, asked me some relatively difficult questions to answer in regards to how I handling this lifestyle I put myself into. Several of the questions related to why am I not doing any of the vacation-type activities. I’m here, why not? Seriously, why not? Simple. I didn’t feel like it. Further into the conversation it was drawn out that I was punishing myself. And there it was. That’s a good junk of why it angered me when people wanted to live vicariously through me. How could I allow anyone to experience this hell I created for myself? It is not in my nature to cause harm to anyone for any reason.

I took the advice my friend dished out three weeks ago and spent a day last weekend on vacation. I drove into Houston, Texas, and went to the Houston Aquarium. It didn’t infuriate me that I spent $14 on admission and $8 to park my truck when I walked though the whole aquarium in less than thirty minutes. I simply turned around and walked back to the first fish tank and started the self-tour again. This time I spent more time appreciating what I was doing, who I was with and the beautiful creatures behind the walls of glass. Afterward I wandered their amusement park area and appreciated the sites, sounds and the delicious aroma of coconut, pineapple and other tropical fruits.

The idea of driving to the ocean inspired me to drive another forty minutes south to Galveston to check out the state campground on the island. I’d read conflicting reviews and wanted to see for myself what I would be in for if I chose to reside there. Just like everywhere else on the south eastern side of Texas, they had standing water in various spots. It was smaller than I expected, but do-able. What is not so desirable is the five and six lanes of heavy traffic mid-day to get on the island and off. I don’t wanna tow a camper through that mess.

On my return drive from the campground, I pulled into one of the parking spaces lining the Seawall Boulevard at the edge of the break-wall. How could I pass up the opportunity to stand in the Gulf of Mexico? I watch traffic in my side mirror until I had enough time to open the truck door and climb out. The steps were a bit steep getting to the beach, but that didn’t slow me down. The sand was hard packed and cool beneath my bare feet. I walked up to the water’s edge with pant legs rolled up mid-calf, and soaked up the view, the fresh air and sea water lapping over my feet in the oceanic rhythm. All I felt was gratitude. I stood there repeating thank you in the deepest appreciation I’ve felt in years. For five or so minutes I was transfixed on the moment that everything stop except my heartbeat. It was stronger, healthier, more alive than I believed possible. All was perfect in that moment.

So… now I get it. I finally reached that space of self-reliance on how I feel with and about ME. I connected the bridge to my inner being. I am no longer looking for approval or direction from outside sources to feel good about me. All I ever needed and will ever need is within me.

Along the way…

Words In Motion

In the darkness of morning on January 1st my heart sunk when I read Jill Celeste’s email from the previous day clearly stating that the 31st of December was the last day to enroll in her Book Writing Challenge. I’d been sitting on the fence as to whether or not I wanted to participate in an activity that required participation and also a financial investment. Was I ready to commit to something, someone, myself? As fast as my fingers could type, I whipped up an email and sent it off to Jill asking for consideration and allow me to join her program. Based on my early morning reaction, I could not think of a better way to begin the new year.

At the end of yesterday’s writing period, I composed an email to Jill oozing with over-the-top gratitude in every sentence. Here’s a portion of what I wrote:

Good morning, Jill!

If you felt a bear hug and a kiss on your left cheek about fifteen minutes ago, that was me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I am up to 4030 words in my book…

I needed the motivation to start, keep the momentum going and everything else this challenge will eventually lead to.

I so very much needed this to get me out of my self-pity-funk laced with grief and loneliness. You, my dear friend, are a miracle worker.

What I left out was the information I shared with her about a coaching course I had started to develop and abandoned nine or ten months ago. This writing challenge has lit a flame under my creative tush.

The first two or three days I began working on the book I am kinda-sorta writing about this soul’s journey that I am on until I realized this journey will not be over at the end of January. And then… it dawned on me. What I was really writing was content for a different book that coincided with the foundation of the coaching course program I was inspired to begin working on again.

The gift that Jill gave me by allowing me to participate still continues to unravel. I’m curious to read the book that comes out of my shitty first draft.

So.. there ya have it. When you follow you’re heart’s cues, amazing things come from it.

If you would like to learn more about Jill’s programs, services and the books she has written, please hop on over to JillCeleste.com. You’ll be happy you did! 

Along the way…