tripping

It’s a trip.

It’s a gas.

It’s a revelation.

I’m halfway through my solo road trip across the country.  It’s a banquet of experiences and I’m gorging myself silly.  There’s much to digest but too much to share at my quick nightly stops.  There are multiple stories happening every day, it’s hard to focus on the theme of just one.  But I know they’re all connected.

Some friends and family members were concerned about me traveling alone.  For this trip, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to process my grief.  I would have hours to be with my thoughts.  To meditate.

Driving the open road is a great meditation tool.  It’s a mini-retreat in your car.  Turn off the tunes, sit in the silence.  Keep your eyes open.  It’s pretty surprising the thoughts that pop in and out.  I found a crazy fluidity in the flow.

The jagged edge of the freeway median reminded me of my father, which conjured up the image of the photograph of that family road trip which sparked a burst of laughter.  And then I turned the corner and nestled in the hillside was the sign for the _____     Cancer Centre.  Blam, the button is pushed and the floodgates open.  It’s still sunny, the day is gorgeous, I’m still remembering the laughter and play we used to share, but my shoulders are heaving and Jurassic sounds are coming from my throat.  And then the focus shifts back to the photograph.  The laughter trumps the loss, the love out lives the life.  And he’s right there with me, in the car, on the road, in the one perfect cloud in the perfect blue sky.  And I recognize that I am not alone on my solo road trip.  

More meditations to come but it’s check-out time and the road beckons.