Not All Who Wander Are Lost...

Along the Alaska Canada Highway.

Nor are they necessarily found. Some of us are kinda lound...maybe a little fost.

One definition of wanderlust is a desire to travel, in order to understand one's very existence. Seems I'm about to undertake some further study in that regard. Maybe. I'm not sure, but possibly. Or not. That page of my instruction manual seems to be missing.

What's a trip without baggage?

When I ask my inner/higher/universal self what's next for me, it points at boxes to pack, meals to eat, meditation to... (do nothing with....?), I get the basic outline for the next few weeks or so. "But what about this summer? What about the rest of the year? Where is home? Where am I going to live? And what the hell is my life's work meant to be while we're at it????" And spirit says, "First eat this meal, wash this dish, pack this box, call so-and-so, do some writing and try not to worry so much. You're exhausting yourself...."


Fine. Fuck you. Then I eat the meal, wash the dish, and so on.

Drifting in the Fog- It's Not So Bad....
Til you run out of food. Or into an island. 

Spirit is being stingy with the marching orders in the past few years. Since my life was upended, the rug pulled out from under and I wanted to die. Tried to actually, only to fail at that as well. At which point I demanded  (righteously angry, and appropriately so!) that the Universe had a little 'splainin to do in regards to just what the hell I was kept around for. At that point the information started trickling in. And I do mean trickling. It's like I'm traveling through a fog. I can sense an expansive landscape around and ahead, I can hear things moving around out there, but I can't see any of it yet. I get glimpses occasionally, but it's like that parable about the people who can only see a foot of the elephant at a time: the person at the tail describes a snake, the person at the tusk describes a spear, the person at the flank describes a wizened old person. They're all right, but they're all profoundly mistaken in thinking they see the whole picture. The only difference between me and them is that I know I'm not seeing it all. I desperately want to, but I only get these little pieces of the puzzle handed to me from time to time. It's frustrating and exciting and sometimes I wonder if I'm just losing my mind.

I hear Adyashanti's voice telling me, "You're not going crazy. You're going sane."

Fine. But how does a person who's going-sane-but-not-quite-there-yet pay the rent in the meantime? And why is it taking so fucking long to see the game plan?

A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for. ~William Shedd

The sun rising over the Alaska-Canada highway on my
trip home last year.  I was listening to "gold lions gonna
tell me where the light is...." on a cd that my niece made for
me as the sun rose.  *magic*

I know that god knows exactly where I'm headed. Maybe not in detail, but in overall shape and feeling. God's just not sharing. The information is handed out on a strictly need-to-know basis, with god and I apparently unable to agree on the definition of "need" in this case. Sometimes I'm wicked frustrated. I suppose that's obvious.





Sometimes I long for a home in the sense of a specific place. Instead I keep learning that home is everywhere, bigger and more interesting than I ever imagined. Sometimes I want one love in my life, someone to focus on and around, to have sex with them and only them, to have and to hold, to know who exactly "my people" is. Instead, I keep learning that settling is a kind of spiritual death and that it's healthy to have a bottom line in terms of how I want to be treated. I keep learning that there is more love in the world than my heart could ever imagine and if I'm going to stay honest with myself and others, I can't hold that tightly anymore. Sometimes I want a gorram paycheck damnit. I think ART SUCKS as a profession and I just want a good ole office job I can clock in and out of again, wherein at the end of the week there is (did I mention this already?) A PAYCHECK. Instead I keep learning that living on less is a kind of freedom and that again, settling is a kind of death in terms of work too. I keep seeing that my body won't let me do that anymore. Bitch.

All the while, I can hear a song in the distance. It's faint sometimes, but it's like nothing I've ever heard and I want it more than all the security I used to long for (used to...ha). Sometimes it's hard to hear under the grumbling, the tears, the distractions and the white noise of confusion. But when I get quiet in the aftermath of a tantrum, there it is, hummin just beyond reach and something in me *knows*. Sometimes it's roaring like a waterfall and I'm flying along the current in utter blissful abandon. Those times help sustain me when I'm being battered by rapids, cursing the river only to realize that I'm battered because I'm hanging on to that branch as the current slams me into it again and again. Then I let go and trust. Again. And grab hold. Again. And let go. Again. and again and again and...

Long ago, I thought I would reach a state of utter trust and not doubt anymore. Ever. Hilarious!

What I know right now is that the fears, anxieties, stresses, desires don't go away, but my relationship to them has changed profoundly. I may rant and rave a bit (it's a great way to clear stress toxins out of the body), but I just can't take those doubts too seriously anymore. I've seen over and over what kind of magic happens when I'm willing to live with "I don't know" and just take the next indicated step. My trust muscles have gotten amazingly strong (relatively speaking) over the past few years. Sometimes I want it all to come faster. But bread takes as long to rise as it takes. Weather is weather. Every step is an integral part of the journey. And honestly, I am undoing and rebuilding some heavy shit here. It is deserving of more than a hack job.

Yukon Rainbow

The last time I was truly at a turning point and not sure what was next, I got a phone call from a dear one who was going to Alaska and invited me along. I stayed a year, made amazing friends, saw and did incredible things, was forever changed by it. I could not have done that if I'd plugged myself in somewhere just to be plugged in, not without a lot of painful unplugging anyway. I have several of those kinds of stories. I fully expect to have another one by the end of the year (my demands list to spirit's ear!).




In a few days I'll put what remains of my belongings into storage again, load up my car and take the next indicated step. I have a fair idea of what I'm doing through the end of June, after that- it's anybody's guess. There are longings pulling me in several directions and, so far, spirit is quiet on the matter. When I ask, "But what about the end of June??? I'LL BE HOMELESS FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!! What am I supposed to be doing?", spirit chucklehums and says, "Well, first of all you need to eat some food. Then you really ought to clear off the bed so you have somewhere to sleep tonight. After that, make a list of what you want to do tomorrow- you know that'll help you sleep. Then do the dishes and go to bed. Sleep sucker. You're gonna need it."

Alien. It's all a matter of where you're standing. 

Fine. I can do that. And between now and the end of June, I'll be the one exploring, grumbling, dancing, bitching, quaking in my boots now and then, then laughing my ass off as I await further instructions and grope around the elephants ass.

Say a prayer for me. It would be a kindness.