Be wander-ful, won’t you?

It might be the worst or best advice ever. Wander til you find your way home.

We spend our lives racing from here to there. School to college. College to work. Work to marriage. Marriage to house. House to kids. Kids to retirement. Even if you haven’t been running that race, you know that’s the plan society set up for you.

We’re all so fixated on a plan. The Friday night plan. The summer vacation plan. TheĀ  early retirement plan. No one has the loosey-goosey, don’t-worry-be-happy plan. But without a plan, there’s room for spontaneity, serendipity, flukes… All the more reason to take your plan–and shove it. Continue reading

Day 28: Until we me time again…

It’s going to be a strange re-integration into my old hood. I might start a 30 days of retox blog next. I joke, but there’s a part of me that knows my re-entry might have a bumpy landing. Because I don’t want to be there. I want to stay here or pick up and move on all together. Someplace else where I can move forward, not settle back in.

If anything, my time away has taught me to shake the anxiety of not knowing what’s next. I’ve been here hanging in limbo space without a plan, without anything pushing or pulling me in any direction. I’m exploring possibilities–with learned patience. The kind you cultivate in a place with few people, little traffic and nothing that would qualify as noise.

How do I preserve my me-time mojo back in the hustle and bustle of the life I left on a shelf? I had a taste of that vibe the other day driving back to show my place to potential sublettors. I got riled by the mess my last tenant left, by the faucet that stopped functioning, by the lunch with the Negative Nelly. I didn’t want to be there.

The good news is, I shrugged it off fairly quickly. It came as those those feelings do. I felt them as I should. And then released them into the atmosphere like unwanted imaginary balloons.

All I can tell you is this works. If you have any hesitation about taking a retreat, a sabbatical, whatever you call it–don’t wait. I wish I could keep it going. I’d be thrilled to stay in the quiet Farmcoast another month. That’s probably all the stillness that’s left in it before the summer-house crowd returns. I could stay if the universe met my wishes, but it’s looking like I won’t get my way this time. It’s really disappointing. But I tell myself, it’s time to get ready for the next unknown chapter.

I hate the word ready. It doesn’t exist. It’s one of those fleeting concepts that people feel too much pressure to achieve–like happiness. It’s real then it’s not. It’s present, then it vanishes. It exists in momentary flashes and by the time you jump on it, it’s gone. Until it isn’t. That’s what I think about readiness.

You take it as it comes in life. The waves, the swells, the trickles, the nothings. The hellos, goodbyes, see you soons and want to see you soon but likely never wills. Those are particularly poignant.

It snowed last night and coated my view with same (yet thinner) blanket of white that sat outside my window sill when I first arrived. I took it in–like on day one–only my ahh was one of familiar comfort, not the breath of freshness it was then. Still, it’s awesome. And I want to bottle it up and put it on my shelf at home so I can take a whiff when the wind isn’t blowing my way.

But I can’t. And this time will fade just like time always does. And when the memory falls too far behind. It’ll be time to come back again. Not to Westport or the Farmcoast, necessarily. But to this thinking-doing-feeling-learning-letting go gray space…the place where possibilities dwell.

Day 23: Where there’s a will…there’s a maybe.

When to say “when” is a recurring decision in life, isn’t it? How long do you give something before giving in, giving up…or giving it your all? I feel like I’ve just settled in here and, in a week, it’ll be time to head home unless the stars align and allow me to stay. I’ve done a little leg work to make that happen but didn’t want to make things too difficult. If it clicks, it clicks. If it doesn’t, it wasn’t meant to be. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

We hear that often in life. Que sera, sera. All we can do is try. How hard and for how long is up to you… Screen shot 2015-03-24 at 11.15.49 PM Continue reading