It’s been a slow process that started in Yosemite, and I’m not sure what it is about this week, but I’ve seem to come full circle. It’s been something I’ve needed for a while, a honest look at myself and what the hell I’m doing here, who I am, rather than who I want to be or was or will be. A refresher on the life I used to live and love; enjoying the steps I took through the day because it was where I was and who I was; happy, sad, cold, hot, angry, indifferent.
Today, I have $4 worth of taco-truck tacos sitting on top of my calendar, watermelon to my left, green leaves shaking in the Santa Maria wind outside my window, and some bluegrass in my ear. And it’s time to get down to the business of what I’m on here for—writing to cleanse myself and maybe show the world something in return. What that may be I have no idea, but I think it’s how this kind of thing works.
After a full and exhausting weekend of drive-time, family, and time with a Petaluma-based friend, I pulled off the side of the road in grape country to try and capture a moon that I needed a tripod for. Its light illuminated the cars passing by on Highway 101 as it rose from clear sky into blurry clouds. The super moon, they called it, and maybe it was super— giving off strange vibes, but I think its gaze forced me to reflect on myself and who I am.
I am honesty and light. I have the ability to propel myself forward into the life I’ve chosen for myself, rather than hide from my past and pretend I know what I’m doing for my future, meanwhile yearning for a place where I’m not. It’s strange to think that when we leave someplace behind, all we do is think about what we’ve left behind. I’ll admit, when I first came back to California, I felt it was so much better than where I was, and in a way it was, it is. But, I didn’t give myself to it fully, because I left a small part of my heart back in the place I thought I belonged. And there will probably always be a small part of me that feels torn between the wild mountain passes and water of Montana and the dry, populated, but crazy beauty of the place I live now.
Life is all about perspective and I can’t believe it’s taken me six months to realize that I belong wherever I am and no matter what, I have the ability to push myself through anything I need to, alone. Alone, because I have the support of the people who truly care for and want the best for me, and because I know that in the end that’s all we ever really have — ourselves.
I can give my heart to another and fall hard on the floor, when I realize it’s over. I can run away from my problems, and they follow me, hiding in the background. I can seek the happiness I can’t seem to find, and I know I will never find it. I can think about the friends who mean so much to me and how far away they are, and they will never come any closer. I can yearn for the high country when I live 2 miles from the beach and never enjoy the place where I live.
But, I can also look outside the window and think about how lucky I am to be me, to be where I am, to have some tacos and watermelon to munch on and music in my ears, and the ability to write down my thoughts, no matter how crazy and messed up my parents may think I am, because I know they’re the only ones that read this. (Don’t worry, I’m not quitting my job to travel the world, although, yes, I still think about it from time to time)
It’s like a switch buzzed off in my brain, and all of a sudden I feel lighter, more optimistic, and able to let in and out whatever I feel I need to. And I want to write about it, tell the world that it’s all going to be okay, no matter what, because as humans we persevere only if we tell ourselves to. We feel with our whole beings only when we allow ourselves the pleasure, because we remove the fear of what we can’t see or control.
If I can give in to myself, I can give more of myself to the world I’ve put myself into, and here I am. Ready to do it. Ready to wash over the mountain’s edgeinto the pool of water at the bottom of the incline and flow into the wilderness of what, I do not know.