I write this from my living room. Dog crashed out on the couch beside me, a favorite cup of coffee on the table. The air is balmy and cool. My shoulders, back and right leg ache. I've done a lot of driving. Fragments, moments, tidbits from my journey.
Unlike past drives, I was not focused on "getting there." I invoked the power of the open road, to live it, experience it, as I desire to experience life. Consciously. With choice. As a Journey. I needed an interrupt. I needed to shift. I needed to heal. I need fresh inspiration. The open road is my best medicine.
As I live my life, the trip has not merely one purpose. Business, family and personal intentions braided creating the journey. Business colleagues, first hand research, friends, family, meetings, adventures, hikes. The crisp hot air of the Mojave. The fecund humidity of verdant Iowa fields. Hiking to my favorite Indian caves. Eating awesome Indian and Mexican in small town America. Small town America - which some day the world will re-discover. It's what we need, crave today. It's right here, in this country, in the heartland.
I return with a pirate's booty! My heart refreshed, stronger than ever. Connections refreshed, stronger than ever. Inspired and delighted and pregnant with words. Direction clear, ready for action. Exhausted and pushed and reduced to basics: gas, water, food, shelter. Return to Iowa, Return to Los Angeles. Returns along the way. I paved no new path, I returned to my favorites, strengthening them, and in return they strengthen me. In the weaving, strengthening of these bonds, the possibility of something new emerged.
When you are the net, there is no place to fall.
There is no place to go. You are always NOW-HERE.
In the Now-Here.
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The three young cowboys in the pumped up truck, I-15 south, yesterday. The caked ice was scattering across the freeway. Cute young thing was waving his hand out the window as I speed Mom's black Jaguar with the California plates. You caught up later (nice job navigating the cockblocker in the left lane) and we gave each other mutual thumbs up as you passed me. I'm sorry I had to exit to refill my tank. I would have loved to continue our anonymous speed filled conversation into Nevada. I'll dream up the conversation we'd have in the bar when we stopped and put it into one of my books.
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Crossing over the Missouri in Omaha, I realize I am on known territory. It's surprising, this feeling - the same one I have in Los Angeles, in the Mojave... known land - this is my land. I am humbled to be welcome back so.
I drive the ribbon of highway up and down the Iowa hills - greeted with wind farms. These fields though, so green. So fecund. I can't get over how green everything is. The grass is a plush foot thick under feet and paws. I want to dive and swim in it. As I drive south, I'm the only non-Iowa license plate. I think, how strange it must be for a local to see my Black Jaguar with California plates deep in the heart of Southern Iowa. I wonder if they know I'm from here. That I'm returning? Why else would I be here? This is no place for tourists from California.
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Bach on full blast as I drove west into the Sunset. A full moon rose from the southeast. I replayed memories in my mind. Tasting, savoring them. Soundtrack changed and in the magic hour I thought of you - of our moments. Bodies connecting, exploring, feeling, getting lost in the feeling, the emotion, the passion, the pleasure. The moments with you, and you, and you. Montage of memorable moments. Mind visiting them, licking them, breathing in their memories. Walking the full way down the fractal hallways to turn and come upon another view of our kiss, touch, deep connection of heart/soul/body/mind. Expansion. Day becomes night.
Time is an illusion, but we made some and funked until the dawn. Moments in our past, memories remain. Moments yet to come.
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I breathe deep into my heart. Chest expanding as I speed deeper into the night. To the mountains. Humid fecund fields transition to dry mountain air and mineral infused springs. Dog is my co-pilot. My mostly silent, constant companion. He's changed too.
When we return to the Hollywood streets, we'll walk with a bounce and show more of our hearts on sleeves. Remember jumping in the tall grass, stopping to smell the lilacs, the ozone of thunderstorms - all the memories of the open road - A pirate booty indeed.
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