. The Starting Gate
It starts. That horizon view line. Below, the grounded...or is it the chained? Security or cage? The moment of true freedom dances around that line..or is it a gently undulating wave? A certain lullaby? Or perhaps, not lullaby, but protest song? It starts again, with momentum towards what is meant...to be.....to feel....to experience. Is it the Raven again, whispering in my ear? Who calls me out?
It starts. That horizon view line. Below, the grounded...or is it the chained? Security or cage? The moment of true freedom dances around that line..or is it a gently undulating wave? A certain lullaby? Or perhaps, not lullaby, but protest song? It starts again, with momentum towards what is meant...to be.....to feel....to experience. Is it the Raven again, whispering in my ear? Who calls me out?
It starts...with the serendipitous and timely. A moment seized with unsure surety. An open palmed invitation to a deepening breath, a welcome mat, trust in the freedom of a footstep.
"In case you hear of anyone, I'd like to be back on the road again by July 1," I say to H. when I stop her along her walking route as I pass by. H., a local realtor, knows things. Knows people and housing. And so it is, she connects the dots that bring me a young family in need of housing for the next year. And it starts. The momentum. Papers are signed, a deposit placed in my hand.
Everything now leans. Every day leans...with its eye on the calendar. The calendar leans, fingers reaching. To touch the breath...the breeze...the horizon. And so it starts.
"In case you hear of anyone, I'd like to be back on the road again by July 1," I say to H. when I stop her along her walking route as I pass by. H., a local realtor, knows things. Knows people and housing. And so it is, she connects the dots that bring me a young family in need of housing for the next year. And it starts. The momentum. Papers are signed, a deposit placed in my hand.
Everything now leans. Every day leans...with its eye on the calendar. The calendar leans, fingers reaching. To touch the breath...the breeze...the horizon. And so it starts.
"I'll just give you the jeep, if it's roadworthy," says F.
We have it towed to a mechanic across town who is noted for creative out-of-the-box repairs.
"Junk it!" he tells me. "Consider your truck. It's the devil you know and it has your criteria. I'll assess it and be honest with you."
And it begins.....two phases of repair, yet still the cheapest way to take a vehicle.
We have it towed to a mechanic across town who is noted for creative out-of-the-box repairs.
"Junk it!" he tells me. "Consider your truck. It's the devil you know and it has your criteria. I'll assess it and be honest with you."
And it begins.....two phases of repair, yet still the cheapest way to take a vehicle.
"I have lots of bicycles," D. says. "When you are ready, give a call and for a donation, I can set you up."
My truck is old, and sucks down the gas. A bike would even some of it out. And I'll still walk. Take city buses. Enterprise weekend rental car deals. I'll stay longer in places I couldn't get to before.
"I'd be happy to check your post office box once in awhile and let you know what needs your attention," says K.
"Sure, leave your houseplants in their home. I'll water them," says L., who will be renting my house with her husband and eight year old daughter.
Things fall into place now. I see more and more Greyhound buses pass me by as I drive around the area, taunting me, inviting me. Not so much to ride the bus, but to drop the slightest taste of something sweet, or bittersweet, or even sour to waken the tongue.
I leave my house June 30th and if all keeps dropping into place, I hit the road soon thereafter. It feels right. I've contracted over the months I've been back, and look forward to once again expanding into fullness. Heightened awareness of my place in life now.
My next post will be from the new road.....with a new Road Blog incubated from the memories of deserts and mountains, dance halls, and concerts. Old friends and the new ones yet to be met. Experiences only dreams murmur about.
And so it starts! The Spiral!
My truck is old, and sucks down the gas. A bike would even some of it out. And I'll still walk. Take city buses. Enterprise weekend rental car deals. I'll stay longer in places I couldn't get to before.
"I'd be happy to check your post office box once in awhile and let you know what needs your attention," says K.
"Sure, leave your houseplants in their home. I'll water them," says L., who will be renting my house with her husband and eight year old daughter.
Things fall into place now. I see more and more Greyhound buses pass me by as I drive around the area, taunting me, inviting me. Not so much to ride the bus, but to drop the slightest taste of something sweet, or bittersweet, or even sour to waken the tongue.
I leave my house June 30th and if all keeps dropping into place, I hit the road soon thereafter. It feels right. I've contracted over the months I've been back, and look forward to once again expanding into fullness. Heightened awareness of my place in life now.
My next post will be from the new road.....with a new Road Blog incubated from the memories of deserts and mountains, dance halls, and concerts. Old friends and the new ones yet to be met. Experiences only dreams murmur about.
And so it starts! The Spiral!