Chop wood. Carry water. Tend the garden.
Make soup. Be still.
 
Never before have I so deeply understood the wisdom held within that old adage.

I’m paraphrasing it here because I’m not quite sure of the exact quote.
 
There’s so much forward momentum right now within sitting still.
 
I’m sitting still within the juxtaposition of gratitude and discomfort.

Finding ways to be comfortable within the uncomfortableness of all of this.
 

​The simple true is, none of this has been that bad. It just hasn’t.
To complain, even a little, would seem sacrilege, unappreciative and down right tone deaf.
 
My basic needs are met. I am safe.
I’m with my family; the two beings alive in this world I love like life itself.
I’m not too hot, not too cold. Roof over my head. Food in my belly. Clean water to drink and cook with.
Comfy bed to sleep in each night.
 
So much to be thankful for.
 
Still, I’m uncomfortable a lot of the time.
 
At the same time, within all of this, so much growth.
So much awakening. So much insight and realization. So many revelations.
​So much acceleration. So much profound recalibration and rapid evolution.
 
Evolution is uncomfortable. We’re all feeling it.
 
Again, with the CONTRAST.
 
Chop wood. Carry water. Tend the garden.

Right now, my Garden is Within. The garden I’m tending is the Garden Within My Heart.
The Garden Within My Spirit. The Garden Within My Soul.
 
The kind of soup I’ll make? Well, that’s up to me.
 
It’s up to me what I allow to grow in my Garden,
While I’m sitting within the stillness, finding ways to be comfortable, within the uncomfortableness of all of this.

​We rolled into Mississippi three weeks ago, two weeks ahead of schedule. The pasture at the farm was, and still is, too wet to accommodate the RV so we parked our Big Girl, Stella in my mother-in-law’s driveway.

​And although they could not possibly have been sweeter or more welcoming, after only one week, we NEEDED to get out of there. We’ve been gone from our parents' homes far too long to be parked in one of our parent’s driveway indefinitely if another option is available.
 
Looking for a place to empty Stella’s tanks, we stumbled upon a lakeside campground that was still accepting occupants. We could not believe our good fortune. We moved into it the following day. Within the week, Mississippi officially went on lockdown and the campground stopped accepting new occupants.
 
We can move locations within the grounds as much as we want, but once we leave, there’s no getting back in, as long as lockdown remains in effect. The lake itself is even closed.
 
Gradually moving into a state of acceptance, and coming to terms with the fact that we’re going to be here a while; yesterday, we left the outskirts of the campground and moved to a slip deep into the grounds and right on the water.
 
For the first time in a very long time, we’re in a space where I feel comfortable sitting outside.
 
Sitting here on the banks of this beautiful lake serves as a heart centered reminder of how much I need to be outside and within nature.

​And how much I need the water.
 
I need the Water like the Air that I breathe. It’s sounds, it’s energy of presence. It’s Spirit. It’s unceasing movement in space and in form. Always changing yet remaining constant in it’s essence. Never static, always recycling itself.
 
Lakes, Rivers, Oceans, Clouds, Steam, Morning Coffee, Glaciers, Icicles, Life Giving Rain, Humidity, Morning Dew, Mist and Fog, and I’m only getting started.
 
One of Mother Earth’s greatest gifts, most sacred treasures. Lifeblood. My lifeline within Lockdown.
 
Sitting here on the banks of this beautiful lake with the Spirit of Water, I finally feel better, like I can sit still for a while.
​I am so incredibly thankful to be here.
 
And I’m reminded how important water is in our Quest for Finding Home; which is the basis of why we’re out here on the road in the first place.
 
For the last three weeks we’ve been sitting within a state of gratitude, even more so than usual. We’ve been incredibly uncomfortable, yet so thankful and acutely aware of how fortunate we are. There are people in this world who are truly suffering. We are merely uncomfortable and inconvenienced.

Sitting here, indefinitely, on the banks of this beautiful lake, I feel that someday, when we’re able to travel again and looking back, I may actually miss being on lockdown in Mississippi.

​My partner and I moved into our RV full time in December 2019 because we had vision.
We wanted to get out of California and find Home.
 
We talked about doing it for a couple of years. Then we spent the entire year of 2019 preparing for this extended road trip of one or two or three years.

This adventure was several years in the making and well planned out. We planned to travel around and explore, find our new home organically.
 
​We have some ideas about where we want to be but nothing set in stone.
We want to let the place find us.
We just have to travel around and listen. Let the land speak to us.
 
And we are just as interested in crossing places off the list as we are finding the right place.
We want to remove doubt, the idea that the grass may be greener somewhere else.
 
We want acreage; to be undisturbed in the middle of nowhere. We want to be in a place where water actually falls from the sky on a regular basis and is plentiful. We want to grow vegetables, herbs, flowers and fruit trees. We want to be mostly food independent.
 
We want to find the place to live out our days and plant our roots deep. And we want to do it while we’re young enough, with enough juice in the tank to make it happen.
 
Three months into our journey, we find ourselves hunkered down. We are fortunate and blessed to be in a beautiful location near family. And we’d already planned to be here - at this time and for a couple of months.

​Sure, we’re not zipping around, exploring and hanging out like we’d planned. But still, we feel like we’re in the best possible place for us to be right now.
 
And we are so thankful.
 
Is this the best time to be living in an RV full time?
Maybe not.
But this is where we find ourselves and honestly, we feel that we got out and into this RV just in time.
 
Recent events just make us even more steadfast in our resolve that we’ve made the right decision.
 
And with my newly found spare time, I’m cataloging my seed collection!

​Two days ago, while driving through the Navajo Nation in Eastern Arizona I saw Wild Horses for the first time.

I wish I could have snapped a picture. They were on the side of the road as we drove by and the sight of them was imprinted upon my mind.
 
I saw two separate groups of them in rapid succession. It was as though they were coming to greet me, to say hello, and I was close enough to look into their eyes.
 
They didn’t look like the same species as any domesticated horse I’ve ever seen or been around.
 
​
They held their heads higher; there was so much spirit in their eyes and in their body language.
They were free.
They were unbroken.
Their backs were straighter and their musculature more defined.
Their manes and tails bouncing.
Their eyes bright and alert with a Fire: of Life, of Freedom, of Spirit.
They owned the space they were occupying.
They were completely and fully ALIVE and IN TUNE.
 
They looked more like Unicorns or Pegasus. I almost expected to see them take off in flight.
Mythical creatures from the days of old.
 
And it’s got me thinking again about how tame, how domesticated everything and everyone has become.
How reliant we are on a broken system.
​How we’ve lost the wild spirit of who we once were.
 
In the eyes of those wild horses I saw who we once were.
I saw past our homogenized earth.
 
I saw mythical beings and I remembered what it was like to be wild.

​We rolled into town road weary, beat up and exhausted. We’d planned to spend one week in Sedona and even that seemed like too long. 

I was ready to put miles behind us, head east to the coast and get out of this godforsaken desert. But we wanted to visit Sedona, had plans to meet up with friends and there was Superbowl Sunday to consider.
 
We were still trying to get our bearings within our new lifestyle, living full time in our RV. Things had been pretty rough and we weren’t adjusting as well as we’d hoped.
​My greatest hope was that our time in Sedona would be a reset button.

​I felt the shift beginning within 12 hours. It was that quick. It was subtle and kind, yet profound and distinct. I was finally able to get my mind right. I began embracing rather than resisting. My energy was changing. I was healing. We both were. I felt lighter, free. I wanted different foods, cleaner foods and a lot of fruit. I wanted fresh air and exercise. I felt a shift toward health. I wanted to move my body, get out and explore. I wanted to get to know the land, the energy of the region and of each individual place.
 
I felt like I was being restructured, recalibrated, upgraded. I felt like I was becoming an improved version of myself. I was becoming who I would be. My energy was shifting, the old falling away and the new rising up and taking its place. I was coming home to me.

​Everything out of alignment had to go.
 
We extended our stay a week, then another, then a couple more. I couldn’t bear the thought leaving. I knew Sedona was exactly where we needed to be. It was magic and so were the experiences we were having. As I got to know the land, I got reacquainted with myself. As I discovered Sedona, I was rediscovering myself.
 
I didn’t necessarily buy into the whole “Vortex” thing when I got here. I didn’t necessarily discount it either. True to form, I wanted to experience it for myself, come to my own conclusions, make my own discoveries. I got the scoop on the location of the purported vortices and visited them. I hiked a lot of trails. I got out into the land. I tuned in and I listened. I wanted to get to know as much of Sedona as I could in the short amount of time I was there.
 
What I found, what I experienced, what I’ve come to believe is there are vortices, power points and portals dotted all over this land, if only we take the time to tune in, to notice them, have the eyes to see and the senses to feel them. It’s not only the ‘Big Four’; not even close.
 
The red rock views in Sedona are spectacular. There are so many hiking trails you could be here a year, walk a different trail most days and still not cover them all. The rock formations are gorgeous to look at; awe inspiring to say the least, but what makes Sedona so special, what makes Sedona stand out is the Heart and Soul of the place. It’s the Spirit. It’s the Energy. It’s the Love. It’s the Otherworldliness of it. It’s a place where the veils between the worlds are very thin and ley lines intersect.
 
Sedona is pure magic. It’s an oasis in the Southwestern desert. For me, part of the lesson of Sedona is to take that magic with me. To bring that magic into every place I travel, into the experiences of my daily life. To embrace life in a state of allowing rather than resisting. Sedona has taught me that and so much more.
 
We love you Sedona; we thank you and we will be back.

When I was a younger woman, I wished for a teacher.
​But the teacher didn’t come.
 
Instead, I found my teachers in the rocks and the trees; the wind and the rain; the clouds, the Thunder Beings; the streams, rivers and oceans; the mountains and the deserts; the elements, the elementals, the winged ones and the four legged.
 
When I was a younger woman, I thought these teachings were somehow less valid, less validated because they didn’t come from human lips, human ritual, human ceremony.
 
Instead, I instinctively made my own.
 
Now that I’m an older woman, I know that what the Spirits of the Land, of Fire, the Air and the Sky have to teach me is more potent, more pure, more powerful to me, than any human guide could ever be, because their wisdom comes directly from source. Their teachings are unique to me.
 
Now that I’m an older woman, I understand what I’ve learned from the Spirits of the Land is more sacred than I ever imagined, when I was a younger woman.
 
It’s no wonder I’m still a Solitary Faerie. 😊

Sedona.      Wow!
I love this place so much more than I'd expected. I didn’t even have a grasp of the energy or the beauty of this place. Or how much I would come to love it here. Fall in love with it here. Head over heels in love.
 
I don’t know what I was expecting, really. Sedona was always this far off, enchanted, almost mythical place to me. A place I'd longed to travel to since I was a young woman. Before I moved to Los Angeles; before I’d been anywhere, really. And despite its close proximity to Southern California, I’d only been to Sedona one time, for 1 day and 1 night, many years ago. I guess when it’s time, you find yourself just where you need to be.

​And now is my time to be in Sedona. With each step I take I’m learning more and more what all the fuss is about. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. It’s a bit like the best surprise on Christmas morning. Something you always knew you wanted but you didn’t know how much or how deeply it would impact you.
 
I truly feel like I’m being changed, recalibrated; like I’m undergoing a transformation that goes deeper than cell level to soul level and echoes throughout the cosmos. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this time, this place my entire life.
 
I want to live every moment to its fullest, to go to every place, hike every trail. Roll around in the Red Earth Energy; paint my body with it. There’s so much to do and see and experience. I feel a sense of urgency not to miss a thing.
 
But the message here is to slow down. Take it all in. Don’t rush it. Savor it. Feel it in the marrow of my bones. Feel it in the heart of my soul. Let Sedona and the spirit of each individual location wash over me, leave its imprint upon me. Feel into it and listen. Slow down and listen to the spirits of the land. Then give myself the time and space to process, integrate and incorporate this new information.
 
This is how not to miss a thing.

​Today is the first day of my new life.
I know that sounds cliché, but…I feel it fits perfectly.
 
I wanted a new lifestyle, but naturally, some of the old me stepped into it. Truth is, pretty much all of the old me stepped into it. I suppose that’s what makes real and lasting change so difficult at first. Our old selves, our old thoughts, our old sabotages - all our old shit - comes along for the ride.

And all that old shit doesn’t like change. It likes things just the way they are. It resists and it makes you quite uncomfortable in the process.
 
Until it doesn’t.
 
You begin to notice and feel the subtle shifts. All the new wanting to come in. Like a whisper, a nudge, tapping you on the shoulder to pay attention. And when you do pay attention, you get a little insight and you feel better. And you go with it. You give that energetic shift your attention. You hop on board, strap yourself in and you go where it’s nudging you to go.
 
As you go for it, new things, actions, thoughts, habits and ways of being get on board with you and the shift. And the old stuff naturally begins to jump off, fall away. You’re not giving it the attention it’s used to and needs to survive. 

​Plus, there’s really no room left for it, there with all the new, riding around with you and the shift.
 
All the old shit can no longer survive without your attention and without you allowing room for it.
 
I’m sticking with that old cliché, ‘Today is the first day of my new life.’, because it is.
 
Because a shift is happening within me.
 
I recognize it. I honor it. I accept it. I welcome it. I allow it to happen. I allow it to be.
 
So it is, and it is so. 

​What if everything sucks? What if this whole year, this whole trip is just an adventure in suckitude?
 
What if we find ourselves, at the end of this year looking back and thinking: “Wow, that was a huge waste of time, energy and money.”?
 
What if the only fun we have is – was – Oregon? What if we had it right the first time?
 
Well, I guess then at least we will know. And we won’t have the regret of never having done this, any of it.
 
I keep trying to get my mind right about things but then, again, we encounter suckitude. I guess part of the adventure is just embracing the suckitude.
 
The discomfort, the incessant chores, stress, fatigue and lack of our normal standard of cleanliness.
 
It’s an adventure in Expectation Management, that’s for sure. Acknowledge it. Don’t gloss over the fact that some things suck. Don’t gloss over the fact that some locations are not ideal or even to your liking.
 
Things aren’t always going to go the way you want them to go. That’s part of the adventure. Acknowledge it and embrace it. Embrace all of it.
 
Embrace the discomfort, the dirty, the hot, the cold, the constant changing of plans and schedules. Embrace what doesn’t go your way as well as what does. Embrace the experience, whatever that experience is. And make the best of it.
 
Just because something sucks doesn’t mean you have to be miserable in the midst of it.
 
Just like frustration is motivation, suckitude is your friend. It tells you that where you are isn’t where you want to be. It motivates you to make changes. It motivates you to make things better. It motivates forward motion.
 
Part of discovering what you want, what you like, what you enjoy, is finding what you don’t want, what you don’t like, what you do not enjoy. That’s part of the adventure.
 
This is a great adventure; of that I am certain. But some of it is going to suck. That’s life.
 
But There is ALWAYS Joy to Be Found in the Journey.
 
Grab the good. Savor it and love it hard. Seek the joy, the silver lining, the lessons to be gleaned, the good that comes out of every situation.
 
Find the Beauty because Beauty is everywhere, if only we can find the eyes to see it.
 
Enjoy the now as best you can and keep moving forward.
 
There are rainbows and unicorns right around the corner. Of this, I am quite certain.
 
And then, one day you wake up and you find yourself in Sedona, Arizona. And everything shifts.
 
Sedona. This is the first place I’ve felt good about being since we crossed the Oregon border and drove back into California three long months ago. Before we drove back to the mountains of Southern California and got our ‘home’ ready to become a short-term rental in preparation for our Great Adventure. Before we moved into Stella full time. Before we set out for green pastures and the great unknown. Ahhh, thank you, Sedona. At long last, Rainbows and Unicorns. (Insert a big, happy sigh here, followed by a smile extending from ear to ear.) 😊😊😊😊😊

​It is only natural to question one’s own sanity when making major life changes.
 
It is only natural to want to fill up an entire journal page with the words:
 
WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE?
 
It is only natural to wonder ‘WHAT WAS I THINKING? AM I NUTS?’ when making a radical departure from the previous status quo. It is only natural that major life changes bring with them a certain amount of stress and second guessing.
 
All of this is only natural. But when one makes a choice, a concerted, well designed choice to change one’s life, to shake things up, for better or for worse, it does make the process of the actual change and accompanying stress whole lot easier to manage.
 
I’m not one to stay stuck in the sameness of things. Mostly. I don’t hang on to things when it’s time to let go. Mostly. I clean out my closet regularly and I donate household items I haven’t used for a time or that are no longer useful for my life now. I’m not a hoarder. I’m not a hanger-on-er. I don’t often become complacent, at least not for long.
 
But sometimes, I feel that life is no longer moving in the direction I want it to. We grow, we change, we evolve. As human beings living and learning, we grow into someone else and our life should reflect that. The external should change to match what’s going on inside.
 
Well, the time has come in my life for some radical change. We’ve spent the last year – yes, the entire last year preparing for this. My partner, Robert and I purchased an RV, did a light refurbish, readied our home to become a vacation rental property and, at the end of 2019 moved out of our home and into our RV (who we’ve named Stella) full time. 2020 will be about laying foundations for our new way of life. And even though RV life has officially begun, we’re still preparing for the road ahead.
 
Here we are with the finality of it sinking in, one foot in the old world and the other foot not quite travel ready. We’re sitting on the bridge between our old paradigm and our new life. It’s still really worky, somewhat uncomfortable and without the fun of seeing new places. We’re tired, exhausted really, and in a state of overwhelm. And with much to do before we ride.
 
Although it’s totally natural to experience these thoughts of ‘What have I done?’ and to feel stressed out and overwhelmed, I know what we’re doing is exactly right. It’s exactly the right thing. It’s exactly the right time. This was not a rash decision. A lot of time and energy, a lot of thought and preparation went into this.
 
We will learn, we will grow, we will adapt. And we will get the water heater working! But most importantly, we will have fun and enjoy the journey. Three cheers to our adventure!!! 😊