halfway here


November 4, 2018
Mt. Baker Wilderness

alternative title: on being ready to go again

Today, morning found me rousing in my car, rain playing tunes on the roof, mountains nearby with a glaze of snow, mostly clouds everywhere, a hint of pink between them.

Six months ago, I was waking up in Canada for the first time in almost two years. I had just been driving through a flurry of snow in Iceland and was now in the myriad of greens of the rainforest that (I guess) is somewhere that I can call home.

I was craving this. I was ready to get my feet in the dirt. I was starting to feel displaced on the road and eager for a pause that I could fill with rhythm and ritual and jars topped with spices and mornings of yoga and driving even though I can't really afford the gas and coffee that I would actually know how to make myself.

I still had so many hopes then. They were crushed promptly but new ones sprung up in their place and this is probably better for everyone.

I got my rhythms and rituals and yoga and road trips and I can make my own coffee. I found things I wasn't expecting but mostly, I guess I'm doing what I set out to do in the first place.

Which brings me here.

Half here, at least.

Not between a rock and a hard place but a river and a willow, between where I've been and where I'm going, between what I'm doing and what I'm craving. Different than before, the craving for STAY is a thirst saturated. The wanting to GO is the electricity that runs beneath everything. It's a tingle in my cells, a hum in my heart. It seems I can't just take it off.

It's scary. I've never said it isn't. I'm always a bit terrified but I just need to do things my own way.

Things have changed. I don't think this will look like it did before. I need different things from the road now and I have different things to give. Mainly more, more things to give. I've lived my life in a halfway place. I'm not much for jumping in. I can't swim and maybe that taught me something.

Does this make any sense? I'm trying to find my voice. I want to show up for the show. I have something to tell you.

I have something to tell you.

It's scary. I just decided to do it anyway.


Photographs from November 2018.