my bags are packed. with my sleeping bag, sleeping pad, a borrowed tent. a tiny stove, a tiny cutting board. fruit, nuts, instant coffee. my journal, a few choice addresses, a couple stamps and at least five different colored thin-tip sharpies. words by nin, miller, neruda and baudelaire. my cameras. my ipod. and my moonstone.

in the flurry of activity and emotion this weekend, i scarcely have digested the fact that i'm now gainfully unemployed. i feel as though the person who worked hours behind the car wheel, with the phone glued to her ear, her fingers diligently tapping away at the keyboard in a windowless office...the entity that inhabited this body and did that for nearly one year...has made a quick exit.

in her place, a yet-to-be defined entity. someone hungry for life. and connection. and meaning. and purpose. and creation. someone who well knows the ways of that previous entity...but who is bored by her tendencies to hesitate and retreat. this new entity, digging in to life, making herself seen...emergence, evolution...

the desire rising for companionship, again, but it comes...and goes. observing attractions and frustrations without attaching to them. riding the waves and energies. syncopation. dissonance. beautiful noise.

emergence...

a woodcut of john muir in the sierras, reproduced as a postcard, above my desk. he sits with his journal open, his hat and small satchel sitting beside him. his left leg is bent and his arm holding pen rests on his knee. he gazes outward. still a young man in this image, focused and intent.

how i wish i were in those very mountains right now, letting the wind drift across my face, the expansiveness of the space energize my body and calm my mind.

at this moment, anticipating my departure from the shore of the known to ride the waves of chance, my current desire and need is to be utterly alone. i'm breaking plans left and right, hoping against hope that my friends understand this is one of those phases when i retreat deeply into my own world for a costume change that requires skilled loosening of intricate ties and shedding of decorations worn for some time now.

to accompany this moment, a nervous tension in my belly. as it always goes in times of stress. but this time, instead of ignoring it and trying to live animatedly despite it, i'm slowing down...very slow. very, very slow. breathing. reading. quelling the fears. and welcoming in the adventure...

van damme state park near mendocino, CA.
stop one for me on the freedom trail.
challenge: camping alone for a night. never done it, time to start. for a little girl who was deathly afraid of the dark growing up and who cried at the thought of camping near a road only ten years ago, it's a big step.

i imagine a stagecoach...with one old, respectable passenger, riding along bumpy dirt roads in the night...twenty miles to go...through the night, he rests intermittently, aware but fatigued. as the morning sun starts to rise, someone young and fresh is visible, walking alongside the road...contentedly putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in the bucolic beauty in the dewy morning air...he hears the stagecoach and signals for a ride. the stagecoach comes to a quick stop and the heavy iron door opens slowly...inside, the old man reaches out a fragile hand to the young man...for some time, they ride together in the same space, the old man fighting his fatigue and the young man barely harnessing his intrigue as he watches the scenery outside the coach change...after several hours, the coach stops...and the old man struggles to get up and reaches for the young man to help him down...he kisses the young man's hand, and then walks slowly into the train station with no baggage. the young man gets back into the coach, faintly aware that he is now in charge of its course...this horse and driver, now willing and able to go wherever he directs them...

the stagecoach being me...the old and young men being my past and present inspirations...

the old, well-used inspirations gracefully departing with a loving welcome to the new inspirations that are taking hold and redirecting my life...

the weepies once sang: 'the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself.'

i took a leap today.

i wasn't alone, but i wasn't holding anybody's hand and there are no visible arms or safety nets to fall into...

a leap of faith. living from the heart and not the head. starting a new chapter, having outgrown old forms, exhausted tolerance for certain energies. renewal of my spirit, wide eyed and wondering what's in store...

come july 23rd, i am free. exhilirating. where will i go? what will i do? all night tonight, i can dream...a wide open door at last.

jerry wrote me a poem to celebrate. thank you, dear friend.

'A Sunny Day in Spanish'

for my friend Keri

catching ones own sky

inside of a kiss

on the neck edges of toes

catching life inside

life

living inside

now

at last

the leap

the unpeeled breath dancing

an elbow

a nail painted

a sunny day in Spanish

Congratulations my friend Keri...

Jerry Thompson