I've been jonesin' for a road trip. I love to get out on the open road and have a destination waiting for me ... preferably a mountain retreat or an ocean cottage. I am driven (pardon the pun) with this urge. It's my greatest muse and it has taken many years to figure out what is behind the "drive". I get renewed when I'm able to follow through with it. In more financially abundant times, I would gather kids and dogs in the car and off we would go! When I was no longer able to afford this luxury, in truth, I was in a bad way. I was confused by the feeling. I couldn't satiate it and felt more and more drained, spending a lot of energy trying to figure out what was happening to me. The feeling did come and go but there was a definite pattern. I had to peel away a lot of issues and fears before I could recall the source of the "drive". The main fear to dissipate was the one about money - the belief there would never be enough of it, that I couldn't take care of myself and that I would be a burden to my family - and the deepest fear of all, that this would hamper my freedom. By taking charge of all of this and reducing this fear to nothing, I was able to see that my freedom (by definition "making my own choices") was mine for the taking. My need for this kind of freedom was viscerally connected to picking up and going some place where I could have new eyes and ears. I'm still not financially able to pick up and go as I have in the past ... but I'm getting closer. I've had the drive recently - for the past few weeks. I've gotten online to check out possible destinations, trying to find a way to fill this need.
When I woke up this morning, I had a feeling of deja vu. I had the same feeling of waking up in my childhood bedroom. I remembered awakening in that room with curtains similar to the sheers in my current bedroom, and packing my little satchel - saltine crackers, lemonade in a thermos, piece of chicken or ham, p&j sandwich, my diary and pen, a book to read, pillow - and heading out to the apple orchard near my childhood home. I would go by way of the river so what would normally be a 10 minute walk would became 30 or so. Turtles and fish and sometimes a neighbor or two would delay me to my tree house destination. I would climb the fence at whichever end the cows in the apple orchard were NOT grazing, and make my way to one of the apple trees. There were several good trees, good for writing, good for snuggling in with a book (usually Louisa May Alcott or Jane Austen) and I would spend HOURS filling my soul with sandwiches, sounds of birds and cows, apples (of course!) and what I loved the most, the breeze. It's a wonder I never fell out of those trees! Sometimes I even dozed if it was extra cozy!
This morning it became clear that I've been doing "road trips" all of my life. Today, I made a p&j sandwich, grabbed an apple and made some lemonade. I turned my phone on silent, laid out 3 different art projects and like in kindergarten, I will go from one "center" to the next - painting, stitching, weaving. I have Carlos Nakai on now but it's getting to be time for John Denver and James Taylor and eventually, I'll turn up the volume with The Eagles and whoever comes across my streaming radio station.
We truly are the same people we were when we were kids. Just a little taller.