Follow Your Dreams

I've had a tough week. After waiting for nearly four months for the drive line to arrive and get installed (thus thwarting my summer in Nova Scotia plans), I thought my car was up and running again, and I was back in the game of chasing my dreams. So when my car was towed home from a camping trip this past weekend, I was not only rightfully bummed, I questioned whether I was supposed to be leaving the canyon at all. . . .as if some divine (or less than divine) intervention is trying to tell me something that I clearly seem to be failing to hear or pay attention to.

But then one of my fbfriends posted something interesting that I have continued to think about as this week unfolds. She posted the following quote by John Maxwell: "Follow your dreams...Don't allow the fire of adversity to make you a skeptic. Allow it to purify you."

The part that has kept me thinking is the idea that following your dreams may not necessarily be a path of love and sunshine. . . .lol. I think I've had this notion that if I am following my dreams, I will know that I'm on the right path because it will somehow be wonderful and easy. But that may not necessarily be the case. In fact, it may be the fire of adversity needed to purify the path! (yikes!)

This past weekend a hiker's body was recovered from the Tanner trail. This was an experienced hiker, as they only issue back country permits for that trail if you have a solid history of serious hiking out in the back country wilderness of the canyon. Yet there he was, living his dream, hiking the amazing grand canyon, but the heat overtook him, and in his panic made choices that ended his dream. It's just sad, and a bit terrifying, quite honestly, because it only reinforces this idea that following my dream may have an outcome very different from what I hope or intend.

But I think that's what's so terrifying about following one's dream, because the outcome of leaving the path of safety or security becomes exciting by the unpredictability of the unknown, but can also cause a person to stop at the edge of the known waiting for the outcome to become clear. But I think by the very nature of following one's dream, the outcome can only be known by stepping off of the beaten path and into the wilderness of the dream's terrain. Yet, in so doing, we step out into the abyss of a dream whose outcome is yet to be woven into the fabric of the dream itself. It may turn out wonderful. . . .but it may also take an unexpected and unwanted twist and turn of events and outcomes.

But such is the very nature of chasing one's dreams. . . .

So I need to rethink my belief about the path to dreams being free of debris and danger and obstacles that need to be hurdled. Maybe for some people the path of their dreams is filled with love and sunshine along the way, but for others, the weather is a bit more complex. . . .lol. And I do think my car is an issue to be dealt with, but I am beginning to think that the issue is something completely different from what it first seemed. So I am still in progress with my life. . . .and the following of my dreams. . . .

Mistaken Identity

I have started reading this book, and I absolutely love it! Totally relevant for where I am in my life, except that I thought I had already escaped corporate American by moving to the canyon. That 's what I get for mistakenly identifying one of the seven natural wonders of the world as corporate-free. Not!

OK, so moving on. . . . .or at least TRYING to do so. . . .

The basic piece of life management that keeps me here at the canyon is that I don't want to go back out into the "real" world by going back to work in the system again--regardless of whether that system be social service or educational--but I haven't yet figured out how to sustain my life if I don't. Hence, I've been willing to work for pennies and peanuts until I figure out how I can fund my life without becoming another corporate cog fighting to change the system from the inside out.

Been there, done that. . . .never want to do that again :)

This book is about creating a successful life while at the same time escaping the corporate tentacles that suck the life right out of the people who work within them. So I am very hopeful that it will help to motivate me to restructure my life in such a way that I can maintain the level of personal autonomy that I need in order to breathe, while at the same time allowing me to have food and at least the basic necessities of life (you know, like chocolate and sunflower seeds....lol....OH! and also the fuel for my new jetboil...lol).

All joking aside, I am suffocated by my work life here at the canyon. So even though the canyon itself has been feeding my spirit, the life sucking is quickly approaching the point of being greater than  the canyon's capacity to feed my spirit. Yes, the writing on the canyon wall is becoming very clear that it's time for me to actively prepare for my departure and hope that the departure will be relatively quick and painless :) and now that my drive line has been installed, I can finally move forward.

In the meantime, I will continue to swim with the salmon. . . . .even when I am surrounded by signs warning that there is no spawning allowed :)

The Pressure to Conform

The solo journey isn't a new concept for me, but the focused "study" of the solo journey is. And I find it more than interesting how right now I am faced with so many different ways that my uniqueness is being pressured to conform.

The word of the day is compromise.

At what point does conformity change from compromise to compromised? I understand the importance and necessity of compromise, that dance between conflicting needs of the one with the other, but there is a point when an essential part of who I am is threatened to be compromised in significant and unacceptable ways. I am at such a point with a part of my world, but my refusal to accept circumstances that are going to actually do great harm to me if I don't stand my ground will have consequences that may not be very warm and fuzzy. And I shouldn't have to make such choices. . . .but it looks like such a choice is going to have to be made.

Compatibility -vs- Pacing

There is a change moving through me. . . .or more correctly, I will no longer be trying to change the me that's moving through. And what I mean by this is simply that compatibility is not the only factor to consider when developing human relationships.

What I am finding in my life is that compatibility is not enough. I can enjoy the same activity as another person, but that doesn't mean that we can enjoy it together. I don't mean personalities, etc. I mean that just because two people enjoy the same activity, that doesn't mean that they enjoy doing it in the same way. . . .or at the same pace.

I wish I would have understood this better when I was married, because I actually DID enjoy the off-road four wheel activities of the jeep club, but I did NOT enjoy the thrill seeking pace my (then) husband enjoyed. This difference in pacing, rather than a difference in compatibility, was a significant source of ongoing arguments between us. So perhaps we could have found a better way to address it than to let my fear speak for me, or for him to say, "You think THAT's bad, watch THIS!" as he kicked the jeep into low gear and jolted up the rocky mountain with me scrambling to get the heck out of that jeep. . . lol.

Yes, an incompatibility in pacing was definitely a problem.

More recently, however, I am finding the incompatibility of differing pacing (more than compatibility itself) to be creating an unwillingness on my part to even want to do social-related events. When I hiked down to Phantom Ranch last November, I was actually doing fine until that couple took me on as their "help a solo hiker out of the canyon" project. Yes, it was snowing. And yes, my calves were clenching up. But I am now certain that had I been left on my own, I would have been able to hike out of that canyon just fine. Had I been able to hike out at my own pace I would have been able to nurse the clenched up calves, and I wouldn't have had the "near death" feeling of experience. . . .lol. Their pace was just too fast for me, and that's what created the problem, not my hiking ability. Just like the slow pace of the hiker I recently backpacked with. . . .it was our difference in pacing that created the stress for me.

I find that it's much easier to find people with whom I am compatible, than to find people compatible with my pacing, and this awarenes changes everything for me.

I am moving into a new place, a place within myself where I'm just not willing to adjust my pace to the world around me anymore. I enjoy life at a slow pace. I enjoy the solitude afforded by a slow pace in silence so that I can listen to what is being said within me, a voice that is more difficult to hear when I am surrounded by the words of the people whirling around me.

Am I destined to journey solo forever?

I'm not really sure what this means for me, but I feel the nature of my friendships changing here already. Some of the changes ARE about basic compatibility, as I no longer find a willingness to be immersed in certain conditions anymore. But it's deeper than just this, and I feel it brewing, even if I can't quite understand or comprehend the changes that I know are still in the process of emerging.

I read recently something about the way to find God is to search the silence, but will I be able to fully embrace the silence of a solo journey?

I guess what I'm really saying is that I want my pace to be compatible with God's pace, and not the people around me. The truth of this stings my eyes, and releases my breath from a deep place within. I am remembering the words of Jesus when he tells the people essentially that if they want to find the Kingdom of God they must forsake all others, even if that means their brothers and sister, or even their mother and father.

Perhaps the journey to God is essentially a solo journey. I don't know. But what I do know is that for now I am moving into a place of deep silence and separation from the world around me.

And I don't normally change my blogs once I have posted them, but this beautiful thing occurred while I was processing through this blog. My friend Nancy read a quote made by Albert Einstein, thought of me, and posted to my profile, which I found upon posting this blog: "The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever seen before." Thank you, Nancy :)

Journey through Mesa Verde

Spent the past weekend at Mesa Verde National Park exploring history on such a grand scale that it's hard to put it all into perspective. I was deeply disturbed on one level that the ancient civilizations were treated as tourist sites with hourly tours by people who had no clue how walk culturally or spiritually sensitive through the past, yet on another level feeling extremely grateful that the Park Service was preserving and protecting these sites for both current and future generations.

My friend Ellen said often this weekend that my first trip to Mesa Verde was a unique trip. My first tour into the ruins was an early morning hike down into Oak Tree House and Fire Temple ruins guided by two park rangers. When we were leaving the Fire Temple site I was overcome by deep sadness, but not sure if the sadness was my awareness of the residual  energy of sadness of the people who were once forced to leave their home, or if the powerful energy of this place magnified my own sadness of feeling homeless and wandering myself. Either way, as I walked along the narrow cliff trail back to the surface of time, I either felt (or imagined feeling) the presence of an ancient shaman walking along with me singing somber prayers of hope for an uncertain future.

Yes, I understand the journey of these people. . .

The day ended with a twilight historical reinactment guided tour down into Cliff Palace. By the end of the day I had already seen more ruins than I honestly care to visit again, but this site brought a different experience. I was tired of being guided through the ruins, and wanted to just be left alone to wander through on my own. I was overwhelmed by all of the words being spoken about something we really don't have language or experience to explain. The words are just theories, because we honestly don't know. Like how the greatest and brightest minds once thought the world was flat, it is hard to know really what life was like for these cultures, or what circumstances might have been forced upon their existence causing them to depart these homes of such impressive magnitude.

As I sat there on the ground of this sacred space, I could smell the earth rising up in the pre-rain air, surrounded by the thunder clapping its way around the carved out stone amphitheater city slowly losing its light. Hot and thirsty, exhausted by the long day's journey, I could feel the energy surging and moving through me, feeling like the earth was shifting and swaying beneath me, except that no one else seemed to be aware of this intoxicating movement of earth and thickly densed air.

Was I simply dehydrated and exhausted? Or was I aware of something more than earth and stone? I may never know for sure, but the "truth" of the feeling doesn't change the experience itself, an experience now indelibly etched upon the layers of memory of this great and powerful place.

I grow weary of all the noise created by the endless and meaningless words to explain. . . .

I will most likely never return to the land of Mesa Verde, but the sadness of their homeless migration continues to haunt my own journey as I wander on in search of home and connection to the land of  my own ancient past, a long and overdue homecoming that awaits my return to a far and distant shore.

Stray Cat Strut

I had an interesting conversation this week that started off with my very earliest memory of how before I would go to bed I completely encircled myself with stuffed animals. It wasn't enough for them to be in a circle, they had to all be touching. And the "goal" for the night was to sleep as still as possible so that when I awoke in the morning all of the stuffed animals would still be touching.

I don't remember myself how old I was, but from the description of the bedroom my mom told me that I was about 18 months old. And I never succeeded with this goal, of course. . . .but it didn't stop me from trying.

I used to think this nightly ritual was about "protection," but perhaps not. The woman with whom I was conversing thought the encircling of the animals was more about "nesting" so as to create the feeling of being contained. . . .which I found most interesting, indeed.

Back in 2005, as I sat on the edge of the rim trying to take in the immensity of the grand canyon, I had this weird experience of feeling both insignifantly tiny and large enough to walk through the canyon like a Paul Bunyon giant, both at the same time. It felt as if my spirit was released from the confinements of my body and felt, for the first time, something large enough to contain it in a way that didn't suffocate or bind me or my spirit. It was as if my spirit had been released like a genie from the bottle, and my life would never be the same. This was the experience that drew me back to the canyon.

As the conversation continued, the woman shared her reflections about me and how she sees me live my life, and somehow we ended up talking about stray animals and their relationship to containment. There are essentially two types of stray animals: true strays and abandoned animals. The abandoned animal doesn't want to be separated from its containment, from its home, so it won't run away because all they want is to be back inside with their people, with their human pack/family. But a true stray will run away. Not run away permanently, perhaps, but they are the animals that will dig themselves out of the back yard or bolt out the open door if given even half the chance.

I have known both abandoned animals who were grateful to have the containment of home, and strays who always preferred the freedom of the outdoor life. My dog Shadow was an abandoned animal, as is my kitty Sarra. But Ketra. . . .ah, sweet Ketra, she was a true stray who never quite gave up her "outdoor kitty" to become an "indoor kitty," and I quickly learned to stop trying, even when that meant that I needed to move on without her out of respect for her choice to stay.

Stray cats are just a different breed of cat. . . . the true free spirits of the world.

As for me, I may long to be inside the warmth of home and family, but I'm just not willing to compromise even one piece of my spirit for the conditions that are placed upon me. Nature, wilderness, God. . . .these are the only unconditionals I find in this world. And so I remain free to roam at will, moving from one home to another, from one adventure to another, because I am a true stray cat from the core of my spirit.

I think I've been feeling a little bit like an abandoned animal, displaced from the warmth of family and home against her will, wounded and badly in need of a good vet. But the old stray cat spunk is beginning to move its way through me again, so there's a bit more spring in my step, and bit more swoosh in my tail. Stella may have got her groove back, but this stray cat is getting ready to strut :)