July 16, 2010

I left the splendor of my accommodations in Ottawa, IL, today, stalling as usual, before embarking once again on my open road journey of a lifetime. Upon every departure from companionship and comfort, an internal struggle emerges that garishly highlights the trials and discomforts of my solo travels. I suddenly long, I mean L-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-N-G, to belong to either the thing I'm leaving or the thing I'll be traveling to. It could be a town, a neighborhood, a group of campers nearby, a family BBQ'ing their hotdogs, a litter of kittens...

It's just something that comes up with such regularity upon all my departures, that I know it by name now: I call it "Longuay Frumholme". I always think it's going to sabotage my journey joys, but it doesn't, actually. It just wears a scary mask to taunt me. But when I climb behind the wheel and set my course, it takes off the mask and becomes an enthusiastic traveler, bouncing around in the back seat of my brain, asking "Are we there yet?"

I drove about 100 miles today and lucked in to a fine campsite at Rock Cut State Park, in northern Illinois. It's gorgeously shaded with hardwood trees and offers miles of hike/bike trails and a swimming beach on the lake. I'm flanked by friendly, merry-making families. Their laughter, crackling fires, and the scent of their BBQs simultaneously comfort and ruin me. (I hear Ms. Frumholme fumbling with her mask!) AND I will gladly fall asleep listening to their homey noises.

I'm heading further north tomorrow to Madison, WI, in search of cooler temperatures. But first, a little adventure on the trails and a game of water fetch for Jubilee!

If you look closely, in the photo, next to the white building and the glowing sun, there are two young folks engaged in "belonging".

July 15, 2010

Oh my goodness, how time warps when the heat and humidity make a stewpot of my brain. I've been lethargically loafing at the home of my dear friend Lynn's mother in Ottawa, Illinois. Together, they have taken on the task of feeding me 3 gourmet meals a day, watering me, wining me, entertaining me, and generally providing haven and home for 4 days while I mopped my brow, filled my stomach, slurped great wine, and enjoyed myself and my haven-makers completely.

Lynn and I made our way to Starved Rock for dinner on Tuesday--a date we've planned for about 6 months. Nearly 200 years ago, a local tribe fled a neighboring nemesis tribe and took refuge on top of the great rock overlooking the Illinois River. The unfortunates were surrounded and held captive on the rock until they starved to death. The river below is the picture of beauty and tranquility, making it a stretch to imagine the torturously slow demise of the entrapped. I sheepishly admit that after making our way to the top of the rock and down again, we enjoyed a wonderfully huge and delicious meal at the Depression-era lodge, and stayed for a few performances of the country-western talent show on the deck. The sunset imbued the surroundings with orange and gold, the cicadas chirped their electric-current song, and the Illinois River seemed to come to a halt in a glassy stillness, mirroring the tall blue-grass and purple wildflowers along its banks. Ahhhh, an evening to embrace.

On Wednesday, Jubilee and I took off for a hike near the rock, wandering along a rugged and narrow footpath, edged on both sides by robustly flourishing poison ivy! I kept Jubie on the path but cringed every time her fur whisked past a 3-leaf configuration. We came upon a magically luminous overhang where a Jubilee-sized creek tinkled and swirled in a beautiful invitation for FETCH. I am certain the overhang area must have been a sacred site at some point in history, and I stood right in the middle of the most luminous point to seat my soul.

I'm happy to say that I completed a commissioned Soul Painting this week and made progress on a watercolor I began earlier, and I completed a "thank you" painting for Lynn's mom, Jane, for her gracious and sweet-hearted acceptance of me as practically a family member during my stay.

July 11, 2010

On the outside of me, it looks like tranquility, a placid lake. On the inside of me is a great stirring, like a geyser getting ready to release. I'm reminded of "Old Faithful" in Yellowstone Nat'l Park. The rapture-lite I spoke of in my previous blog is still with me. It is a fortunate and comforting foundation for this latent momentum that is trying to manifest. I feel like my being is just barely containing an expanding bubble of universal growth hormone, and I'm ready for the release and whatever form it takes.

I haven't updated my blog for a few days, being preoccupied with hanging around and relaxing with my wonderful and gracious friend, Marcia. We've cooked together, had our turns on the treadmill, walked the neighborhood, chatting with neighbors in their yards or sitting on their porches, gone to the movies, shopped a little, read books, read our "charts," talked endlessly...It has been the most pleasant of leisures here, and a safe haven for my internal rumblings.

The weather has been quite warm and humid for most of my stay, but has cooled off a bit today and yesterday. We've been limited in our excursions by the heat and by the Jubilee element. So I have not actually been into the "city" portion of Chicago. We've decided that I will come another time WITHOUT Jubilee, so I can roam the city by foot for days and really slurp up it's energy and get to know its distinct personality.

My eternal gratitude to Marcia.

July 7, 2010

Leaving the farm was bittersweet. Mary and Gordon treated me like I was family, from royal heritage. I will always be grateful to them. After 5 days on the farm, I felt ready to continue my journey, and was excited and confident driving down the country lane, waving goodbye, Jubilee perched in the co-pilot seat, ears flapping like little flags.

We made it to the southern shore of Lake Michigan, to play at  Indiana Dunes State Park. I could not believe the size of Lake Michigan! It expanded into the horizon and disappeared at a blurry edge, just like the ocean. Oh, how I plunged recklessly into the cool and shimmering blueness, quenching every cell of my being! Even Jubilee joined me. She frollicked like an otter; I lolled about like a manatee.

After 2 hours of water frolic, we walked through the scorching sand back to the Motherload, which was parked in the shade and welcoming our return.  I grilled hot dogs and munched on crisp, cold salad, the whole time propping my drowsy head on my hand to keep it above my salad. I ate/dreamed of aqua waters and idly allowed to wash through me the commingled sounds of the water's rhythmic lapping, the seagulls' playful squeals, and the happy shrieks of little hot kids running and splashing.

A lovely peace set in. And with it an undefined expansiveness, which is still with me, and still holding me in a sort of rapture-"lite."

I drove another 90 miles or so to Chicago, negotiating the interstate freeways during rush hour and a tremendous rain storm. Still the rapture remained. My dear friend Marcia, who used to live next door in Corvallis, picked me up from the Walmart parking lot near her neighborhood, which is entirely comprised of old brick houses and giant-tree-canopied streets. And air-conditioned!

I am so humbled by the opportunity to make this journey and to say YES to its many unplanned expeditions into interior and exterior realms.  I am so grateful to be led I know not where. And I'm so grateful for the fine folks who have helped me along the way, providing shelter, comfort, companionship.

If this whole journey is about nothing more than finding RAPTURE-LITE, it's more than I would have asked for. And I promise I'll try to bring some home with me!

July 4, 2010

INDEPENDENCE DAY. I celebrate this day for the courage, vision, determination, power, resolve, and fortitude it took my ancestors to stand at the helm of their own lives, to set their own courses, and to manifest that which their hearts held the blueprints for. Bless us all, every one of us, for our efforts, triumphs, and flops, and let freedom ring for the right to choose, the right to change, the right to be!

I'm thinking of my Grandma Barr, who, during the Depression, divorced her drunk, unfaithful husband, moved her four kids to Winslow, AZ, bought the closed out bank building on the corner, and successfully turned it into the Double Dip Ice Cream Parlor. What guts! It's no wonder that eating ice cream is almost an act of homage for me.

Here in Warsaw, IN, Independence Day was celebrated on Saturday. So last night, my hosts drove me into town for dinner out. Afterwards, I was chauffeured around town to sight-see. Warsaw is about the size of Corvallis, and has five beautiful public lakes to boast about. We drove around the lakes, watching the locals arrange their blankets and chairs and set up their late-night picnics for the fireworks over the water. We parked in a quaint neighborhood by a channel leading to the lake and sat in the car with the windows down to wait for the fireworks. At 10pm, they exploded and bloomed behind the trees and illuminated Victorian roof lines. Some of the fireworks made it well above the trees, and we jumped out of the car, gasping and oooohing. On the way home, I fell asleep in the back seat with Jubilee,  just like a little kid, with my head lolling about, lulled by the "grownup" talk in the front. 


Today was the first day in I don't know when that I actually had exactly NOTHING to do. It was a complete day off of everything. So I walked around the lake many times, soaking in the aroma of mowed grass, goose droppings, cottonwood trees, spent fireworks. It was very warm and humid, but the silky-soft breeze was continuous, tickly and delicate. Rain clouds continued to mount over the horizon, promising a late night, cooling shower! My host, Gordon, graciously took me on a tour of his farms, and I got to take my first ride in a combine! Perching in the glass enclosure, high above the wheat, watching it being plowed out from beneath me was a thrill and just a tad scary at first. I munched a small handful of wheat kernels, savoring the nutty flavor, and feeling very "grass rooty" out there in the hot sun with a bazillion Wheaties in the making. 

July 2, 2010

AAAAaaaahhhhhh....what splendor to relax on a beautiful farm, on a languid summer day, not driving my RV, not driving myself to keep moving, not driving a stake through my heart for my disintegrating marriage...just sitting in quietude and sinking into the moment with all five senses. A couple days ago, I decided that every time I had a non-supportive, non-affirming thought or memory, I would say my affirmations out loud and "love pat" my heart area to really DRIVE the message home.  IT'S WORKING!

I am truly seeing that this journey is about driving deeper to the core of myself as I traverse the landscape of America. I've been on the road for nearly 3 months now. During this time I've lost parts of myself, found them and more, discovered overlooked nuances, met my demons, stared them down, invited them to tea, cringed at myself, cracked up, cracked apart, cried, pouted, spat, felt humbled, expansive, constricted, delighted, dismayed, courageous, forlorn, and free. That was just the first day. No, just kidding. It's been a remarkable 3 months and I'm so very grateful for every day and so not done!

I feel something in me is changing, but I can't name it yet. There's a subtle yet powerful surging I'm feeling  that is in synch with the upcoming Independence Day celebrations. I feel like fireworks are set to go off within me and they are waiting for the queue.

For all of you who regularly read my blogs, and for those of you who drop in from time to time, I thank you earnestly and whole-heartedly. I'm driving into uncharted territory a lot of the time, and you are my link to the known world.

July 1, 2010

I was released from the RV yard this morning at 11:45, the Motherload road-worthy once again! The repair came to $170, which is not too awfully bad. While she was being repaired, I put Jubilee in the bike basket and road the back country lanes of Terre Haute, IN, in the splendid sunshine and cool morning air. At 11:50, we took up our positions as pilot and co-pilot and headed for Turkey Run State Park, about 40 miles north of Terre Haute. What a treat it was. So beautiful and clean and peaceful. Jubie and I hiked around for a couple hours (no chance we were getting lost today!), and played in the clear creek that ran beside the trail. Over thousands of years, the limestone canyon has been scoured to create huge overhangs and caves along the creek. Just right for exploring and pretending. It is so sweetly simple to become a kid again and play in the yard of Mother Nature. Isn't that so corny and so true?

I drove 200 beautiful miles today, making my way to Warsaw, IN, to stay several days on the farm of my good friend's parents. Tomorrow I promise to get some photos of this grand place, complete with picturesque pond, shady trees, wild geese, and amber waves of grain.

June 30, 2010

I'm pleased to report that I'm safe, well, and in pretty good spirits, here in Indiana, safe within an 8-foot-tall barbed-wire fence, which is locked around me and the Motherload for the night. Nobody could possible scale that fence for nefarious intent, and if they did, I'm sure the fangy guard dog doing laps around me  would enjoy the encounter. I know I'm not stepping OUTSIDE the Motherload until morning.

When I had my propane tank refilled this afternoon,  a leak was discovered. I drove 30 miles to the nearest RV repair yard with my heart pounding, scared of a freakish blowup. The technician agreed to fix it, tomorrow, if I gave him permission to drain the tank tonight. The owner of the RV Maintenance yard has graciously allowed me to stay IN THE YARD overnight. He threw in his guard dog and elec/water hookups for free. Mighty fine. It saves me a $37 KOA charge, and when I look out the windows at all the other RVs stationed here on the gravel, awaiting repair, it's easy to pretend I'm in an RV park, minus the stimulating aroma of BBQ. There are no trees, only large perimeter bushes, but I'm snugged up against an aluminum building for shade.

While waiting for the tank to drain, I tried to do some computer work, as I'm in good coverage area here. For some reason, Verizon (my wi-fi stick carrier) would not allow me access. Would you believe it took 67 minutes and 8 phone calls to resolve the matter and get me back on the grid? And it was THEIR mistake in the first place! I almost pulled out my teeth!

I was tired, though, and short on nerves. I had set out this morning for a lovely walk along the paved road that meanders through Lincoln Trail State Park, IL, where I camped last night. Beautiful shady trees lined the road, inviting a leisurely circumnavigation of the campground. I figured 45 minutes, tops. It turned into a "Twilight Zone" episode. Almost 3 hours later, I was tired, thirsty, worried about Jubilee having to walk so far, and completely and utterly lost in a labyrinth.  I WAS ON PAVEMENT IN A STATE PARK, for Goodness Sake! How could I get lost here? The trouble was that the "main" road very quickly split into a series of spurs. All of which looked just as "main"--same width, same prominence, none of which was labeled or signed in any way. Also, they all curved into the woods, following the "fingers" of a completely inaccessible lake, which shimmered irresistibly like a mirage. So I could not see where the roads led unless I walked down them. I had no cell coverage. Not a soul was around. I yelled for help, hoping that in the quietude of the woods, someone would hear me! I've never been so lost. It was so creepy. Plus it was heating up, which activated all the blood-sucking insects in a land where I was the only target.

I found a shaded tree stump and honed in on it for a good cry, which I aborted to spare Jubilee. Then I called to my guardian angel for help. H-E-L-P!!!! I don't know why or how, but I KNEW I was heard. Within maybe 15 minutes,  a man driving a state vehicle came my way and I flagged him down. I told him my plight and he gave me vague directions but would not give me a lift, even though I pleaded. I guess I didn't look almost dead enough. He claimed "State Regulations" and took off. I muttered a few ornery hopes for his future and tried to get myself out of the labyrinth of doom. And, in another 10 minutes or so, another state vehicle crossed my path, and I ran after it like a wild woman, screaming. After hearing my scream, and then my story, I was kindly chauffeured to my campsite, which was a circuitous and mysterious mile and a half away. I would never have found it though, and probably would have parrished, either from exposure and thirst, or from being sucked dry by mosquitos, if not for that kind man, who had only disdain for the young chap who deserted me.

June 27, 2010

Whippee! I discovered the joy and ease of interstate travel, after 2.5 months and more than 6,000 miles of  back road highways. I had forgotten how quick and simple an interstate is, if you really just want to peel off some hours from driving time, which I did. In this heat, I'm giving myself full permission to make any adjustments to previous mind sets if the adjustment serves my comfort and/or convenience.

I'm holed up at my cousin's 3-story victorian brick house in Centralia, IL, completing tasks and preparations for the next phase of my journey. The guest room that was prepared for me is purportedly the "most haunted" room of the house, which functioned as a mortuary at the turn of the century. I have to report that I was awakened last night (and Jubilee shot up to full attention) by a perfectly clear and cheery "hi-ee!" in a child's voice. All the windows were closed, and the air conditioner running, so I didn't think the voice came from the street below. Who knows about these things?  I just offered up my own cheerful "hello" in response and moved over on the bed, in case there was a sleepy child spirit somewhere looking for a place to rest. I slept like a baby, as usual.

My dear cousin cooked up a storm for our supper, which we ate at 2pm in the dining room at a table set with china. We fell into easy and amusing conversation which lasted until 10pm, no matter which room of the house we moved through, and there are lots of rooms.

June 26, 2010

Today was bittersweet, knowing that this incredible joint-journeying had finally reached its natural conclusion. We decided to celebrate by visiting one of the gazillion Waffle House establishments that pepper the landscape. And we PIGGED OUT sufficiently to hold me for a good 24 hours (though it didn't!). It was an intolerably hot and muggy day, the Motherload was suffocating, and I was completely without motivation. I attempted a short bike ride in the morning heat blast and retreated after 2 miles, having mistakingly allowed Jubilee to romp down to the river for a quick swim in cool, but stinky, dead-fish water. I'm sorry about that. I rented a cheap, air-conditioned motel room for two worthy reasons: 1) watch World Cup Soccer with my son while beering and snacking, 2) mentally/spiritually cleanse and reposition myself, my dog, and my belongings for advancement in this next phase of my journey. We had a lovely time, hooting and screaming at the TV as our American players ultimately failed to keep their position. It's a surprise to me how completely absorbed I can become, clenching my fists, stomach, jaws, basically every part of myself that contains a muscle, hoping--praying even, that we'll score. Then when the game is over, I  realize I don't even follow soccer as a sport, and actually don't care one hoot who wins or loses, or if the game is ever played again on the planet! Such is the nature of spectator sporting.

I took my beloved son to the airport right after the game, kissing and hugging him goodbye and, yes, crying all the way back to the motel. It was only a 5-minute drive, though, and when I returned, I busied myself with research and planning for the next day's travel, ordered a pizza and salad, showered my dog and myself, and turned in for the night in the splendor of cool air and a TV movie.

Hansi, if you're reading this: you are the light of my life.

June 24 and 25, 2010

A little break in the weather sure improved my lot in life! Mercury topped out at about 88 I think, and there was a steady breeze. Hans and I rode bikes through Forest Park. This is a huge city park, kinda like Golden Gate or Central Park, but less botanical. Probably about 4 or 5 square miles of rolling greens, enormous trees, fountains, ponds, lakes, art museum and the likes. It was a real treat. Jubie got to run and play and take several dips in the lake, until an unidentified creature swam by and freaked her out.


We pedaled through charming old neighborhoods of 3-story brick houses on tree-lined streets, then stopped at a famous little diner called Blueberry Hill.

We opted to leave our asphalt, treeless moorings in downtown St. Louis for a more bucolic KOA site, back over the river in Illinois. We lucked into a nice shady spot with grass, a pool, the works.

I have one little problem to report and that is: the Motherload's refrigerator up and died! I was quite upset at first, but then I figured it's no big deal, actually. I just use the fridge as an ice box, and it stays quite cool. Plus I discovered an added benefit: I am relieved of the daily preoccupation and effort of keeping the Motherload level (required to run propane for cooling). It's a little task that has always vexed me, and now it's gone! This will come in very handy when boondocking, which I plan on doing a lot of through July.

Today we made a trip to the Cahokia Mounds in Illinois, which are the remains of the largest prehistoric Indian city north of Mexico. The mounds were built for different purpose by native Americans during Europe's dark ages. We walked quite a distance in the increasing heat and blazing sun until I retreated back to the Motherload to sit beneath a shade tree and chat with a friendly local for awhile. After a rest, we headed up the stairs of the highest mound to get a panoramic view of the Mississippi Bottom Lands and the St. Louis arch rising in the distance.

Tonight is our official last night together. Hans will fly home tomorrow, being forced off the river by the recent floods. He'll return in a couple weeks to resume his journey. I will head further south, making my way through Mark Twain National Forest, then down to Maulden, MO, my grandmother's birthplace. I hope to find the old farm home she grew up in.

To honor our last evening together, we went for a swim, then fixed a fine picnic-table supper and played a couple games by candlelight, then retreated to the safety of the Motherload when the mosquitos whined their threats in our ears, and watched "The Big Lebowski" for probably the 10th time, laughing heartily.

It's been a wonderful, unexpectedly extended time with my dear boy, and I know I will miss his companionship and his helpfulness, too. AND, I feel a calling to return to my journey of solitude and introspection. I've been gone 10 weeks now! I have nothing but curiosity, excitement and wonder about what lies ahead!

June 23, 2010

HOT. HOT. HOT!!!!!!! Brain has shriveled. Walked the city in the morning. Dragged self home (Motherload). Discovered refrigerator broke. Week's worth of groceries--gone!

Biked to river front for air, breeze and grass. Got some. Jubie played, collapsed in bike basket, slept all day and night.

Jumped into pool. Ate watermelon for dinner. Drank 2 gallons of water. Fizz, fizz went my brain cells. Hans had to abort river trip. Going home. Will wait out flood, then return. Over and out, mostly out.