For me 2012 began with the domino effect; several moves, a couple of significant job losses, a small but attention-grabbing health crisis, and a son who was clearly not thriving in public school brought me to my proverbial and actual knees. I hit a wall. I couldn’t keep on keeping on. All my ability to strong-arm myself through the daily challenges ceased to work. I spent a lot of time on the couch. I couldn’t be proactive to save my life. In retrospect, this was a classic melting down time. All energy turned inwards, the primordial goo of identity and meaning an indecipherable puddle.
Miraculously, through this period I have been able to keep the family boat afloat without taking on another full time book keeping job and I have allowed myself more time than I have over the past two decades to just….be. To not know. To not try to figure it out or fix it, relentlessly. To learn how to listen, a little and trust, a little. And from that place, the trip to Kenya emerged. It didn’t start out as a very clear plan but one with a lusty call to life.
Seeming roadblocks were cleared with what felt like synchronicity and relative ease. Within several short weeks my creative, independent 16 year-old had taken an early graduation and earned his GED. My work load ebbed to a new low and suddenly the idea of leaving for a significant chunk of time was feasible. Still, I needed to be bated a little before taking action. I needed that momentary lull of security, even though I know there isn’t really a safety net, before I was willing to jump. I received that net in the form of an offer on my house in Bozeman which I wanted to sell but had been afraid to let go of. The papers were signed, the deal was done and so I bought those plane tickets and started the logistical forward march that would take us to Kenya. Not surprisingly I suppose, the done deal fell through about ten days out from closing and I got the opportunity to see if this was in fact something that I’m really committed to doing or not.
The answer, though not without shaky knees, was a resounding yes. And it felt like an initiation. No epic journey worth its salt unfolds without some sea monsters, cloaked figures stealing through dark alleys or tricksters in disguises. What scares us can be an invitation to do what we need to do to grow. And so, let’s go!
“The Art of Falling Apart”
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Sea monsters, cloaked figures and tricksters oh my! You my sweet beautiful friend are Dorothy with those ruby slippers firmly on your feet. There is no place like home and that is this great big wide world. So looking forward to going on this epic adventure with you. Can’t wait to meet the scarecrow, tinman and cowardly lion!
Continuing to track you, and loving your sensibilities and your beautiful writing
Whoop! Whoop! Your plane left Montana this morning (I hope without drama) and you are aloft in every sense of the word! Thinking about you untethered up there in the sky and all the places you will land to pick up pieces of who the new yous you two will be. You go, freshly homeless girl! We can have the champagne when you get back;)
Ok…I am prejudiced as I am your aunt. If you don’t write a book one day, I will be sad….you are are incredible writer. Today you leave for your journey and my heart pounds for the two of you with excitement. If one sees barriers before jumping them, then one is paralyzed. you are now on the block so run with all your might. We are proud of you. We Lign ourselves with you as that is much like our decision to join the Peace corps and opposition we faced. Love ya, aunt livvy
“Every blade of grass has an angel that leans over it and whispers, ‘Grow.'” ~ The Talmud.
Whatever form it takes – shaking, sweating, surrendering, soulful serendipity – growth is good. Bon Voyage, Beauty!
Amen to your incredible soul. Once again your ability to turn your thoughts into words that are both insightful, and entertaining is amazing. Be well.