30 Days of Indie Travel | Overland Travel Memory, Day 4

I am starting off late this morning. I have spent enough time reflecting on various overland trips, especially those with Chris M. as they were/are the spiritual hearth of overlanding for me. The best one was back in January 2000; he and I quit our jobs, packed up our belongings, loaded up his adventure-style truck (the Bajataco) so we were "self-contained," and set out for Baja Mexico.

I remember feeling like a sort of pilgrim, one who's traveling to understand the land, who's here to learn about relationships and follow queues, to learn the forgotten wisdom of the ocean, and the secret essence within nature that is the cause of all magic. Chris' patience and amazing companionship helped me to understand, let me find "my way." He probably remembers seeing me fumbling sometimes, yet never griped. He knew I wasn't searching for a specific end (other than a couple hot springs), that I was not embarked on any special quest. It was an everyday venture for me. I was traveling and escaping... well, because I was traveling and escaping. The world tottered during that time as we drove back and forth between the coast lines to find outpost after outpost, yet beside me Chris stood firm, offered me solidity, a time and space where there has always been more time and space.

This turned out to be a 4-month overland journey in all, and if Chris were here (we are on separate adventures now) we would have plenty to talk about over supper. Love, Sharon

Coming to terms with love (Real)

It's different this time around. "I love you" carries with it more weight and I am enjoying loving unconditionally those people and animals I'm loyal to, and especially my new friend. The weight is not like carrying a "hundred pound pack" at all; it comes from Really understanding and sharing love better and better. I know that love (as a passive noun) can't conquer all because I've done this before and it was like viewing that relationship through a sparkly lens that vanished completely once the sparkliness wore off. The non-sparkly love is the love that's weighty and Real and lasts through hardships and holds steadfast. Knowing this is an advantage I didn't stay true to last time. A year ago I didn't know what life could bring, didn't know what I was promising, didn't know there would be personal growth that hasn't always come easily.

Some days I have to fight against a voice that says, "I don't blame you if you do...(if you move on, end things, let me go)" because it's much easier to hike where I always go, the trails I know, rather than believe or look for a different path that is a wide, open range metaphorically full of wild grasses and forbs. And on other days, I find myself in wake-up-call mode because I've forgotten what it's like to have someone care so deeply about what's going on in my heart. It's a lot to come to terms with, as it's not what I expected. It's like trying to test the temperature of cold water that you know is hot. And when I do feel the Real temperature, I find it is the very best part of living through the experience of my other sauntered relationships. The hope of redemption is exactly what keeps me going and I've stopped begging so desperately for sparkly things because love (Real) has a better plan in mind.

I’m also starting to think that maybe the universe is a lot more gracious than I realize. Certainly more gracious than we are with ourselves or each other. Maybe the point of life isn’t to do it perfectly, but to learn as much as we can, sometimes the hard way. Maybe we’re here to get through, seeing the beauty in the people that surround us. Maybe the point isn’t being right but instead operating with Real love. And maybe the universe is looking at us, seeing us struggle, doing things maybe a little bit wrong, but when the person I love tells me that it doesn’t matter, I trust it will be pretty darn amazing. It already is amazing, and slowly and surely proves different, and better, this time around.

Love, Sharon

Truth begets truth

At the end of an endless conversation several months back, my friend asked, "Do you always tell the truth?" In other words, would there be an occasion that would I tell a lie. I paused because there are times when I shirk from the truth and re-paint the situation. There are times when it's hard to be completely honest, especially when I know the truth will really hurt or it will hurt me to hear it. I think this is where it gets sticky, especially with close relationships, and that I risk destroying them (for example let's say they were doing something wrong or damaging, or that's what I thought, but what if they actually weren't—you see?).

At this point in my life, I was, almost by accident, just on the cusp of starting to understand what honesty actually was. It took a lot of conversation, laughter, and the culmination of much suffering to make me start forcing myself to reveal my so-called secrets and accept others' truths. I realized, as well as my truths, I am my past lies; I cannot deny them; if I ignore their having taken place (they slipped my lips), I am a coward, a child and show my true face of inadequacy. You can't give the truth if you don't have truth. Lying was my way of clearing up my unconscious anxieties and emotional survival mechanisms that I thought might/would protect me in the first place. I am now giving myself the space to actually feel my feelings and be true to them. At all costs. And even though I may have a ways to go on the path of honesty, it has so far been one of the most beautiful, painful and interesting lessons of my life. And as an artist this is very important to me. Xo, Sharon