"Once a year, go someplace you've never been before." - The Dalai Lama
Tomorrow I hit the open road with my friend, Lea, heading out of the blast-furnace heat of Phoenix, into Northern Arizona and Northern New Mexico for a week's respite, house-hunting, time sitting under the stars, and the chance to eat all kinds of food slathered in green chilies.
"Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all of one's lifetime." - Mark Twain
We plan to stay in rustic casitas and visit little sagebrush burgs. We'll see marvels like the zig-zag of the Gorge outside of Taos and climb the spiral stairs of Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe. Lea wants to photograph an aspen grove; I want to listen to the wind howl through Canyon de Chelly.
We'll listen to books on tape and chant and let our souls soar like kites above the Sangre de Cristos. We'll meet old friends and toast the fact that we're still here, whirling around the sun, watching Pluto fly by, mooning us as he goes.
We'll meet our vagabond selves and see what wisdom, what mercies come with the open road.
"Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories." - Ray Bradbury
We'll stuff ourselves with wanderlust, with clear stars, and with sweet, singing marrow.
Life as I know it is changing at warp speed.
I am conscious that I am hurtling through time and space at a rate that makes me dizzy, weepy.
I want this new life, but it terrifies me, too.
Have you ever felt like that? Like you should pinch yourself to make sure you aren't dreaming, while at the same time opening an air sickness bag, praying you don't blow chunks all over yourself?
That's me, right now.
It's bittersweet, this.
I'll be meeting new people and shedding a skin that is familiar and warm. I'll be walking out on a life that has suited me well, but no longer fits.
The dog's a nervous heap on my bed, scared witless that I'll leave her and never return. My mom and I white knuckle it as we plan and pack, crying and laughing simultaneously.
And I know it's a good thing, even if I am scared out of my mind.
So, think of me this week, out under this dome of Western sky, drinking up all the life I can find. Think of me swishing my skirts and drinking margaritas and journaling under the crescent moon.
Think of me howling across Interstate 40, my great-barn-owl-soul screeching and calling out the primal spirit of my life.
I am out in the world looking for what I need and want most.
I am looking for a new place to nest and call home.
I am looking for what feels right.
I'll know it when I see it.
© 2015 Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved
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