Ruidoso

Who knew there were so many shades of blue,

sun and clouds shade the mountains with hues
that mix and blend and create patterns of delight

Here in the valleys and the hills alike

You can find a place to call home.

Let your heart finally come home.

Life is good here; quiet and calm;
wind in the trees makes its own song.

Birds on the wing and the bustle below;
deer on the move, even elk in the snow.

This is a place the heart can heal;
this is a place to call home.

Winters are cold here, but people are warm,
even strangers are greeted with no false charm.

Smiles are honest and words are true.

Places like this are too far and too few.

But this is a place my heart can heal.

It calls to me, welcome home

Welcome home.

***

If I could come up with a tune that has a slight Spanish feel, I think it would be a nice tribute to this town I have fallen in love with.  A town is a town is a town, right? Well, maybe so, but I have experienced Ruidoso to be a place with a welcoming spirit and an honest heart - the mountain views and surrounding beauty don’t hurt either.

Seriously though, consider being a stranger just passing through some unknown town. In some places, you just get lost in the busyness of the skyline. No one really notices you, especially if you’re traveling alone. You’re just another customer, another sale. They won’t remember you. It’s not like they really care. And for the most part, this is ok. It’s nothing unusual or unexpected. It’s just how life goes in most cities and towns.

What is unusual and unexpected is to run into a town full of people who aren’t just trying to make another sale. They greet you with genuine warmth. They even refer you to their competition if it’s a unique silver piece you’re looking for. They are friends after all, and all part of this community. From the southwestern jewelry stores to the salon, from the church to the car dealer service department, I was met by people who were not just friendly; they really cared about what they were doing. They were welcoming and they loved this town. Store clerks and postal workers, waitresses and cooks, maintenance guys and computer genies are just at home here and they’re glad to share their space with you. They really are kind and generous and caring.

There is a slower pace here (maybe it is the time of year) and so it was easy to share stories. Some folks grew up here; others are transplants that wouldn’t even think of leaving. Robin is divorced; Cheryl is celebrating 25 years of marriage in this place of her honeymoon. Both are filled with gratitude for the lives they have here. Summer laughs about the main goal in the winter is staying warm, the heck with beautiful hair, and there is no better place to raise her kids. It’s a small town; she’ll know if they wander or get in trouble or not. 

Ken is a 5^th generation store owner in Native American jewelry and art. He came back from Colorado to take over the family tradition.  Charles moved here from Oklahoma years ago with his wife; they now run a ski shop/women’s fashions. Don’t even ask him to go back.  DJ and Kelly are Pennsylvania Dutch, military sojourners who landed here after retirement and never left. Talk about a great love of this place, its local artist, silver and turquoise and more – this mother and daughter team are absolutely delightful and welcoming and fun.

Oh, and did I mention Reese? I don’t know much about him, actually. My eyes were closed most of my time with him; it was quiet and peaceful and relaxing and calm. What I do know about him is he has a solid core, strong arms and tender hands, and he gives the best hot stone, deep tissue massage ever.

I’d move here for just the massage and mountains alone, but truthfully, this is a town with a welcoming spirit and an honest heart. It was easy to feel at home here. There is something about this place that offers a safe haven. I’ve laughed and cried as I got honest with myself. I’m admitting my anger and my pain and finding a desire to deal with it and let it go. My body and spirit have found contentment in this place. It has been easy to rest and write and play and sing.

Tomorrow I leave for more unknown places and towns and people. I hope to find other places of genuine warmth and honest spirits. I know I’ll find other places of great beauty, I just pray I find more places my heart can call home.  In the long run though, anyplace can be my heart’s home if my spirit is content and there is genuine honesty and hope in my soul. Ruidoso is just a great place to discover your heart’s home.

No matter who you are, no matter where you’re headed, Welcome Home.

Up Close and Far Away

I am thoroughly enjoying the view from my mountaintop condo these days. I can’t seem to get enough of just standing at the edge of my balcony and staring off into the far mountains. The view is breath-taking and inspiring.

It reminds me of a view I had a week ago of the Window in the Chisos Mountain as I was hiking the trail to get there. I was coming down a decent descent, watching where I was putting my feet, because I am not known for my grace.  I happened to look up and out and there it was: my destination, the Window.  It too was breath-taking. I stopped for a moment to just look around and soak in the bigger picture. Way in the distance I could see three objects rising out of the landscape, but it was too far. I couldn’t really tell what I was looking at; perhaps some yucca’s in bloom?

I continued to hike down the trail and I kept looking in that direction trying to figure out what I was looking at, wondering if this trail would take me by it or not. Oops. Watch your step, idiot! Yeah, I guess I should pay attention to where I’m at on the trail. It’s a good thing I have rubber ankles and good recovery of balance…

One of the musings of the hike that day centered on the notion of big-picture views versus paying attention to the current surroundings. You have to admit the big picture views tend to be breath-taking and inspiring. There are things way out there that catch your interest and make you wonder. And it is good too to have some sense of where you are headed. But what I re-discovered on that trail is that while looking at the views way off in the distance is wonder-filled, you miss the beauty right under your nose. Not to mention, you run the risk of falling flat on your face.

After stumbling a bit over a rock in the path of my feet, I decided to forget the far off view and pay attention to my present surroundings. And guess what? There were all kinds of amazing and breath-taking things right under my nose. There were these delicate little yellow butterflies flitting around. They never seemed to land any one place long enough for a picture. They flitted and hopped from flower to flower and plant to plant. Oh, yes, there were all kinds of flowers as well, different from the desert: smaller, wild flowers.

One of the real treats walking along this trail and paying attention to the things around me was the startling discovery of a prickly pear with heart shaped leaves. Do they even call them leaves?  I’m not sure, but here was this large sprawling cactus with not one, but several heart shaped leaves. Sometimes you’ll see something other than a round shape on a prickly pear because of some sort of injury to the plant – like an animal took a bite out of it. But these leaves had grown naturally in the shape of a heart, no injury. It was really captivating and wonderful and unique. I would have missed it if I had kept looking at those object way off in the distance.

 It was fun just looking closely at the things around me. There was this simple delight in just observing the shape of leaves, the colors of flowers or birds, especially the scrub jay that flew straight at me. There was much right under my nose to take may breath away. I found myself stopping often just to enjoy something unique and beautiful in its own nature. This is living in the moment, right? This is being present to what is. It’s stopping to smell the roses. It’s also a very smart way to stay cool and hydrated on a hot, dry day in desert mountains.

But there is a problem with this stopping to smell the roses. It takes me far longer than most to reach my destination. Of course, since I’m traveling alone, I don’t really have to worry about that. Time is whatever I want it to be. But I notice when I really just let myself be present in the moment, I tend to lose track of the journey. I lose sight of the bigger picture.  I think there is something good about this but I also get a sense after awhile that I really need to keep moving. I need to look up and remember the bigger picture and keep the destination in sight. The destination after all will have things to delight my soul as well. That’s my hope anyway.

So the real trick in this journey of life is juggling the up close with the far away. We really do need to have some distant destination in sight that hopefully keeps us moving forward. There is this bigger picture that embraces our lives and our work, our love and our play. But it is important that even as we know we’re heading in some particular direction, we pay attention to the things around us. Live toward the future, but take time to be in the present moment. Stand in awe of the breath-taking vista that is your destination, but don’t dare to miss the delightful things along the way. Indeed stop. Smell the roses. Stop, and breathe deep the life that is all around you. Stop. Look up; look out, and then journey forward again.

P.S.  Just so you know, I am not a naive or in-experienced traveler. Sometimes the journey is hard. Even on a hiking trail, it can get treacherous. I’ve landed on my bum a couple of times. I’ve had to stop and rehydrate because the hot sun cooked me. It’s not all roses out there, or cactus for this setting. Or maybe it is…both roses and cacti have thorns.  Guess what I’m trying to say is that it is just as important to juggle close up and far away when the journey is hard. Maybe in some ways, it is even more important when the trail is hard.  Journey well, my friends. 

Open Road

I was once your favorite girl,
now I don’t exist anymore.
You say our lives took different paths;
it seems to me you hid the maps.
What happened to the love we shared?
Where’s the truth? Where’s the dare.
I was once your favorite girl,
but now I don’t exist anywhere.


What will I do now? Where will I go?
You’ve built yourself this new life
One that makes you whole.


All the things you loved in me,
turned out to be our enemies.
Once my laughter filled the air;
it was easy then to care.
What went wrong? Why did you stop?
Where’s the sparkle and the pop?
How did all the things you loved
turn out to be so wrong afterall?


What will I do now? Where will I go?
You’ve built yourself a new life
Leaving me the open road.


Now I wander through the hills,
walk the deserts, paddle the still
Waters that flow so freely now
and open up beneath my bow.
Who could have guess life could be
so full of newness and so free.
Now I wander through my days
hopeful and free, I exist everywhere


What will I do now? Where will I go?
Laughter still waits for me
Joy fills my soul


So what will I do today? Who will I be?
Life is an open road
My love is set free.

Words & Music by me. April 16, 2012
Always a surprise. 

It's a God Thing

It’s truly fascinating to me, even after all these years, how God moves in my life. Some might call it coincidence, but too many things keep coming together; too many times I hear the same message: I am called to creativity. God has great things ahead for me.

Yesterday I spent the entire day here at the condo, writing and sleeping and catching up with friends. It was indeed a great way to spend a Saturday. Even as the winds roared and the mountain seemed to ascend into a cloud, I was content to be inside and simply be reflective and restful. As I thought about worship for the next day, I remembered a Presbyterian church I had driven by the night before. That seemed like a reasonable and comfortable bet. I looked at a long list of possible other churches and figured most were going to be too conservative for me. So Presbyterian worship at 11am, it was.

But then I pick up the Ruidoso Visitor’s Guide for 2011-2012, and there in its pages of history and attractions is a half page advertisement for Church out of Church. There’s no real sense of theology, only that their experience of worship might not be so traditional. In fact, there in the center of the ad it states, “If you want church as usual, you might want to make other plans…” The church is located in Alto; worship is at 10am. It’s casual; come as you are. I’m intrigued, but I have no idea how far Alto is from where I’m staying. It’s probably going to be conservative. I should stick with what I know, but I went to bed with the option open. I’ll see how I feel about it in the morning.

Morning came with beautiful sunshine and a crisp blue sky. This week my discipline of Morning Pages asks that I choose three affirmations and write them five times during each mornings writings. I choose three from the list of 20 and add one of my own personal affirmations as well:

I am a channel for God’s creativity, and my work comes to good.

I am allowed to nurture my artist.

There is a divine plan of goodness for me.

I have something of significance to offer.

Throughout my morning reflections and writings, these thoughts were repeated. As I drank my second cup of coffee I decided to push the unknown. I was going to the Church out of Church. They worship at the Flying J Ranch, which is one of the family tourist destinations in the area. They offer a chuck wagon dinner followed by a country western show most nights. As I pulled in under the sign crossing the drive, I thought, “Lord, I hope it’s not country gospel music.”

I pulled into a parking spot about 9:50am. Ten minutes to show time. I ate my yogurt and opened myself to whatever was ahead. As I walked to the building that had a rustic, western dance hall look to it, I just reminded myself that if I expect to meet and worship God this morning, it will happen. Regardless of style or music or even theology; it’s what I bring to worship that really matters. 

I entered my  sanctuary for the morning. It was indeed a Western show hall with long benched tables all in rows ready to feed and entertain crowds of tourist. I was greeted by Steve and pointed to the coffee and donut table. There were some people hanging around chatting in this area, but not too many. I was thinking this was going to be a sparsely attended worship. I topped off my coffee mug, grabbed a stadium cushion and found my way to a place towards the front and in the center.

The band was warming up with Hallelujah! Your Love is Amazing. Nice!!! No country gospel music. Thank God. People started filling in. The din in the back of the church out of church grew louder as people gathered, got coffee and caught up with each other as church communities do. A couple sat down next to me. Melvina and Mark. They’ve only been coming for a few months. Their daughter was coming here and got them started. They really loved the worship experience and hoped I would too.

Finally at 10:15, the band came back on stage. There’s four of them, ranging in age from 40’s-60’s. They have a good sound; balanced and blended well. The woman in the group is apparently the worship leader. After a brief announcement about a prayer breakfast in May, she opens up worship with a passage from I John 3. Something about the Son of God being revealed for the purpose of destroying the works of Lucien. Oh no, I thought. This is going to be a wild ride. But my prayer had been to know God’s presence and hear God’s word in the music, the prayers and the message, no matter what the style, music, or theology. So heart is open, mind is too.

In spite of a shaky opening, I found the music to be, for the most part, engaging and meaningful. There was a bit more devil talk and Jesus with a sword imagery than I care for (and you need to understand, I don’t care for any). But even with that, there was a genuineness about the band. They believed what they were singing. It was easy to join them in the words of praise and expressions of gratitude for God’s goodness and protection. I could let the other stuff go. I did feel God’s presence in that place. It helps to expect it.

A woman, Julie, was invited to give a brief testimony at one point. They didn’t call it that, just said she had something important to share. And she did. Short, sweet, simple. One morning when she was battling with feelings of self-worth, she turned to God in prayer. God asked her, “Beloved child, is there something wrong with me?” “Is there something wrong with my word?” “If there’s nothing wrong with me or my words of grace and truth, why do you doubt your own worth? You are my child. You are my beloved.”  Sometimes we forget that very simple truth.

After about 40 minutes of singing, the pastor takes the stage. I kept my heart open. After all this devil and Jesus with a sword stuff I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he really spoke to my spirit’s need. I didn’t agree 100% with his theology, but some of his words “coincided” dramatically with the things I’ve been working on. I was stunned when he literally said that we are each called to creativity and that God has great things for us to do. We’re God’s vessels… 

He touched on Philippians, one of my favorite letters of Paul. Surprisingly he brought us the verse about the two women in the church who were in conflict with each other. What? With all the great stuff Paul says about rejoicing, this guy picks out the conflict? Well, keep listening, my child. It is amazing when you expect to hear God’s word, the heart and mind and ears are indeed attuned. In the midst of this church out of church I heard that broken relationships are not what God wants for us, but when they do happen, we shouldn’t let them weigh us down. They should not be burdens that define us. We need to remember that God does not want us to settle. God never calls us to settle. God wants what is good for us and what frees our spirit for the creative work set before us.

Ok. How did this guy get into my head and into my heart? How could he possibly know I needed to hear those words of grace and also his challenge to forgive the other? The anger and pain that comes from a divorce after 20+ years of marriage is real, but what a blessing to hear this call to creativity is a call to healing. The Artist’s Way has that at its core. A conversation with a good friend yesterday reiterated that that God is going to do great things to me and with me on this journey. Now this pastor of a church out of church brings it home. God is at the heart of it all, with forgiveness, love and transforming grace. The power of the spirit frees us for full and creative and living. Faith is the act of believing that God wants this for us. I dare not forget it.

Not sure what happened at the Presbyterian Church today. I'm sure God was there too, but it turns out I was right where I needed to be. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.

Throwing Stones

All my life I have been taught NOT to throw sticks or stones. You too? Well come along on a rugged mountain hike with me and let’s think about when it might be ok to disregard this teaching. 

The day I decided to hike in the Chisos Mountains I came across some unusual warnings. This is not something I needed to worry about down in the civilized world. But up here, on this mountain, I now need to be prepared for 4 legged, furry predators with teeth and claws. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!  Ok, no tigers, but still mountain lions and bears… oh my! I am not in Kansas (or Indiana) anymore.

I have to admit, the warning signs amused me. I know they are deadly serious, but something about them struck my funny bones. The sign reported that a lion had been frequenting this area, and could be aggressive towards humans. You have to understand the stick figure drawings didn’t help matters.

If you see a lion, here’s the things to DO

• pick up small children  (what? don’t feed them to the lion?)
•  stand together, appear large
• wave arms, shout aggressively 
•  throw stones or sticks

Whatever you do though, DON’T show fear, crouch down or run away.

The strategies for bears are pretty similar: shout, wave arms, throw stones. Anyway, it seems like the best strategy when encountering a wild, threatening beast is to have a temper tantrum and be mean. I thought this highly amusing, and as humor often does, it opened the door to some deeper reflections. I don’t know about you, but my mom and dad taught me that temper tantrums and mean-spiritedness were unacceptable. Always. Good girls don’t throw tantrums and well, I should just be nice. Yelling and calling people names won’t get you what you want. Throwing stones could hurt someone. What’s that children’s rhyme – sticks and stones may break my bones…. And you can poke somebody’s eye out with that stick. Put it down!

Through the years, I’ve also learned some basics about conflict management and resolution. At the heart of it is an understanding that shouting aggressively and being abusive just aren’t very helpful. In fact, the first person to start cussing and shouting in an argument has usually lost or missed the point. Yelling tends to escalate tensions. Name calling does nothing but belittle and de-humanize the other. The person who throws a stone or a punch is out of control and does more harm than good (even if they do get their own way).

Well it is obvious that conflict management is not going to work with a bear. You can’t rationalize with a lion. If they think you’ve invaded their territory or that you have something they want, you’re not going to calmly talk your way out of it. A temper tantrum is indeed your best strategy when confronted with a wild beast. Shout aggressively! Stomp your feet! Throw stones and sticks and whatever names you can think of! Your life depends upon it!

That makes sense out here in the wilderness. Being nice while being threatened by a lion, or trying to make friends with a hungry bear, could mean serious injury if not certain death. When beasts threaten, you must be aggressive and loud and even mean. Forget conflict management and just throw the f@#ing stone! Shit, throw lots of stones, and sticks too. Whatever you do, don’t run or cower. Stand up for yourself. Your life depends upon it!

All humor aside, these warnings got me thinking about when is it okay to throw stones? Have there been times in my life when I should have been shouting aggressively and waving my arms? I tend to be a peace maker. I want peace at all costs. What that means is even if I am angry; I will work very hard not to show it. I will keep my opinions and my needs to myself if it might upset someone or worse yet someone might very well reject me for them. I have also become a master at not stirring boiling pots. If anything, I look for ways to turn down the heat, calm people down.

What I have come to realize is that while this may be admirable behavior, especially for a minister, it has come at a great cost to me. Perhaps if I had seen others, or at least their behavior, as life threatening, I would have thrown stones; I would have shouted and waved my arms and had a temper tantrum. But that seems so dramatic, doesn’t it?  And it’s not very mature or saintly or rational. Surely church people and family members are not lions or bears that can seriously injure you or even kill you. Right? They’re not your enemies, are they? Or aren’t they?

The hard truth is while I might not have shown fear in the face of “my enemies,” I did cower. I crouched down and my life has been at risk because of this.  My needs and desires became secondary to keeping the peace and keeping the other happy. Always. What I have done unwittingly is devalued and demeaned myself. The irony is I did this thinking I was protecting myself. The times I did stand tall and speak my mind; I always seemed to make a few enemies. People would call me names, like unpatriotic or pagan or just plain bad. Some even left the church. They no longer liked me. One prayer or idea became a point of separation rather than a place for growth or conversation.  The times I did raise my voice in my marriage (not even a full-fledged temper tantrum, mind you), I was told I was out of line or irrational. When I did express my anger in very clear terms, my ex would call me bitter.

I had basically thrown myself to the lions through the years without even realizing it.  I thought it was more important to not upset or hurt the feelings of others. Peace at all cost. What I did though was feed my good ideas and my valued needs to the lions. I let the bears decide whether I mattered or not.

These days as I hike wilderness trails and journey into the wild places of my soul, I am discovering that I need to stand tall and value myself, even if it does mean making a few enemies.  I need to aggressively defend my thoughts and ideas. I need to pick up and hang on to my children (ya know, my dreams and my needs). I need to shout out loud: Life is good, and I am good.    When others try to shut me down, trample my ideas or take away my sense of self worth, I need to remember that I am more important than peace at all cost.  I am worth protecting and there may be times I need to throw stones to keep away the enemies of my spirit.

Even as I learn there are times to throw stones, I am also learning that throughout this rugged, wild journey there are vistas that take your breath away. There is a deeper sense of peace, because now I know I matter and I belong in this wild place. And yes, there is still room for lions and bears. They are fascinating and wonderful creatures who deserve my respect and who belong in this wild place too. I just need to keep them at a safe distance. My life depends upon it.

Desert Wanderings

Damn, it's hot in the desert! How's that for an astute observation? I'm known for those.  I'm in the Rio Grande Village of Big Bend National Park these days so I decided to start with a hike close to home; meaning the trail head was nearby. Tomorrow I will venture further West for my explorations, and I will start much earlier.  



The trail for today was the Daniel's Ranch to Hot Springs run. It's a 2.8 mile trek each way. That's a breeze right? Well, add a whole lot of rugged desert rocks and scorching sun and it becomes quite a hike.


I left at 11. It was still cool and there was a nice breeze; figured I would arrive at the hot spring by 12:30 or so. I had packed a lunch and brought along my Artist's Way workbook and journal thinking I would spend a couple of hours at the hot spring before returning to start.

It was 1 o'clock before I arrived and I was whipped. I started out having a great ol' time hiking and gawking and taking pictures. I do 3.5 miles on the elliptical machine in 40 minutes, so this should be a piece of cake, right? After awhile though I was thinking this had to be the longest 2.8 miles... I started to wonder in fact if they had mis-measured the trail and it was actually 6 miles each way. Every bend just seemed to expose more desert terrain. Where's the damn river already?? 





































Finally! I see the river again. So where's this hot spring. It most be close by. It might as well been another mile away. By this point, the sun is right over head. I haven't seen shade since I left. I'm hot. I'm hungry and I want to rest. Luckily I could see people and lovely green reeds by the river. Not far now...


It was good to finally arrive and there was actually a thin strip of shade along the one wall to the ancient hot spring. The best part no one else seemed interested in the shade. There was a large group of English and Belgian families who were on a lunch break from their canoe trip down the river. They were having a grand time playing in the hot spring as well as body surfing in the river. 


I sat in the shade and ate my tuna and cracker lunch while listening to the laughter and fun of this bunch. I honestly couldn't imagine sitting in the hot spring though. The water is 105. After trekking almost 3 miles in the hot desert sun that didn't sound at all enjoyable. But I did dip my feet in the cool river water and drenched my kerchief thoroughly before putting it on my head. Ahhh. Now there's relief!


The canoers left and I now had the place to myself for awhile. The shade was limited, but there was enough to relax and rest. Smaller groups now started coming to the spring. Funny to watch the disappointment from most. They came the short distant from a nearby parking lot, not even a long hike, and they expected more.  It really was kind of tiny and understated, but after a long hike it did provide a nice oasis. 



I had been there for about an hour now and was beginning to worry about the long trek back. The sun was hotter now. I had one bottle of water left. It was tempting to ask one of the driving hikers for a lift back, but damn my pride. I just couldn't. I did accept an extra water from a couple I had seen on the trail earlier in the day. I thought then they were finishing the trail when I first ran into them. Nope, they had hiked to the river overlook, saw the map description of no shade and decided to drive the rest of the way.


Anyway, with extra water and new resolve, I decided to tackle the 2.8 miles back with a vengeance. My goal was to do it in 90 minutes. No dilly dallying or picture taking. Hike! Well I did take a few pictures, but not many. I was really focused on hiking and getting the hell out of that hot sun.  


I'm such a stubborn fool sometimes. I probably really should asked for a lift. But ya know, if I had done that I would not have seen the really cool rose colored snake. I would not have taken time to reflect on an earlier conversation with the river guide Mark, and last but not least, I would have missed out on the sense of accomplishment and the absolute joy of finding some adequate shade before the final descent.  


Reflections on conversation with river guide:  When Mark asked where I was from, my immediate response was "nowhere and anywhere." We had a short but important conversation about being homeless. Anyway, on return hike I thought about my response. It had been so immediate and so "inspired."  To be from nowhere is actually a bit disconcerting. It's not belonging to any one or any place in particular. It's a very lonely proposition. But to be from "anywhere" was very freeing. It reminded me about the choices ahead of me. I can go anywhere. I can be anywhere I need to be. It is good to be from nowhere and anywhere all at once. For a time, I am unfettered and freed. I can experience life in a new way. 


With that, sweet dreams...

Resurrection Day

Resurrection Day

The sun rises; the tomb is empty; a new day dawns.

Some find only confusion in an empty tomb.

Others venture forth with wonder.

Others still know the gift of second chances and new opportunities.

This Easter was a day to experience a certain amount of emptiness, wonder and newness. It is the first Easter in 30 years that I have not preached or led worship. While it was odd to realize that, it was nice to worship from the other side. And how wonderful that worship actually came to me this morning. The local UCC church had their sunrise service here at the camp. Another great thing was sunrise for them was 8am (I’m sure the sun was rising somewhere about that time).

Another new venture for me on this resurrection day was to do my very first solo paddle. That may seem like an odd thing, and maybe no big deal. But you have to understand from the first days of swim lessons and canoeing, you just never did things in water by yourself. You always had a buddy. There had to be at least one other person swimming with you. You always canoed with others. It was a matter of safety even if it was an inconvenient rule. I’ve lived with this inconvenient rule for 50+ years, not so much because I follow rules (if you know me at all, you know I often push limits). But this rule actually made sense to me, and truthfully, when it came to water, I have always been content to let someone else take the lead.  I have enjoyed the luxury of having scout leaders or guides or good friends who know the ropes and could make the plans. I was just lucky enough to go along for the ride.

Well, it is a new day. I have begun this journey of solitude that will take me over 5000 miles before I’m done. My only companion on this trip is my Cape Falcon F1 kayak. If I’m going to use it and enjoy the water between here and the Pacific Ocean, I not only have to break my lifelong rule of never doing water alone, but I also have to step up and be the responsible one.

Today I did just that. I broke the rule and I stepped up. I had to do some homework to find possible put-in points on Canyon Lake. I had to think about what looked like the safest place for me to paddle on a lake unknown to me that I knew would have speed boats. I only had myself to make sure that all the right gear was packed. I had to figure out the timing and remember where it is I left my car so I could find my way back. These are all things I have taken for granted, trusting in the competency and knowledge of others. Today the tomb was empty. I could either wander in confusion or venture forth with hope and wonder. I chose the later and I am happy to say, all went well on this first solo adventure on the water. I paddled mostly in the cove of Comal Park. I did get the bow of my boat out into the main lake but decided I really didn’t want to compete with the speed boats. The ones I encountered in the cove were enough to make me wary.

It was a beautiful day to be out: calm breeze, warm sun, good water. Canyon Lake is at least 8 feet below normal levels due to the drought, so at the lower end of the cove was a forest of eerie trees rising out of the water. Barren and white against the blue skies, they provided a haven for birds, a few fishermen and one lone paddler. I spent about 90 minutes out on the Lake and then came back to the right spot. My car was right where I left it. That was one of my biggest worries – finding my way back to the put-in. It is amazing how different landscapes look out on the water. I had discovered out on the bay, paddling with a dear friend, that perspective gets mixed up and navigating can be tricky when relying only on your senses. It was a proud moment of relief for me today to find my way back safely to the right spot along the endless shore.  

And the wonder of the day continued. One of the mentors from my youth lives nearby the camp. I ran into an extended family member of his and was invited to join in their Easter celebrations at the ranch. Just about everyone from this family that I had admired and adored as a youth and young adult were going to be there, including my mentor, Frank. It was a precious gift today to be with people. After just a couple of days of solitude, I was in need of human contact and not just any human contact, but humans who knew me. It was a joy to hear the ventures of folks and see new generations of this family chasing after eggs hidden in wonderfully green and colorful places. It was also a real gift to be encouraged on this journey ahead. I know I go held in the prayers of many. That makes all the difference as tomorrow I travel west.

Resurrection Day

The sun rises; the tomb is empty; a new day dawns.

The empty spaces are nothing to fear

I can venture forth with wonder.

And trust the gifts of second chances and new opportunities.

Happy Easter, y’all

Party of One

So what is it about dining alone? As long as its Starbucks or McDonalds or the local café, it’s alright, but try going alone to a real restaurant. From the hostess stand to the table there is this sense of “really? Really, is she going to dine alone?" They don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or awed by you.

The other night I went to my favorite restaurants of all time: The Grist Mill in Gruene, TX. I remember when they first opened this place waaaay back when. It is literally in an old abandoned grist mill that sits above the Guadalupe River. The back walls had caved away and you could see sky from inside. This was a very seasonal dining place when it first came into being.  Through the years they have enclosed the interior of the mill to invite year-round business. They have also developed the outside dining area giving it several layers of decks that put you out there in the boughs of live oak trees and give you a glance of the river below. If I have my druthers I always go for outdoor seating. 

For my first night of solo journey, I decide to go to the Grist Mill. It is after all a favorite place, filled with many memories of my Slumber Falls Camp days and the dear people I knew and loved then. I adore the setting and I enjoy their food, so off I go. The sun is beginning to hang low in the sky and the air is cooling down from the afternoon heat. It just feels really good to walk down the brick path next to the Historic Dance Hall towards the tower and the entrance of the Mill. Perhaps it is nostalgia; maybe it is just simple anticipation.

There is an older couple in front of me, heading the same direction. They arrive at the hostess stand before me; I hang back a couple of feet, because well, duh, I’m not with them.  The girls look up and then says to the man, “table for 3?”  It was comical to watch his bewilderment. It was obvious to him that he was there with his wife. Where did this 3^rd person come from? The girls looked slightly embarrassed; apologized and passed the couple off to one of the other hosts to be seated.

Now it is my turn. “Just one?” they ask. Yes, two of them chimed in together to ask the question. You could hear the pity and the curiosity in their voices,  like that is so sad and so unusual and what in the world are you thinking? My host takes me to the seat, asking if I had ever been to the Mill before. Obviously a single person would know better than to come here alone, right?

I’m seated at a great spot on the upper deck. I see the older couple being seated below. I giggle to myself.  Wouldn’t it have been funny to pretend I was his daughter and what do you mean I’m not with you? Anyway, as I’m thinking about funny scenarios to make bewildered people even more bewildered, my waitress comes to the table.

“Are you expecting anyone else?”

“Ah, no, just me.” 

“Oh.” You can hear the surprise and disappointment in her voice.  She is probably thinking, “Great! Here’s a lousy tip.”  If she didn’t think it, she sure did act it. She never told me about the specials for the day; went right into what I wanted to drink. Brought my Shiner Bock. “Do you know what you want yet?” “No, I don’t.”   “Well do you want an appetizer?”  “Actually that would be good.” 

She was very short with me. She acted like I should just know what the dips are from their names. “One’s red ,the other’s green.”  Oh my. She’s either having a bad day, thinks I'm stupid or she really is not happy about serving a lone woman. I have heard that women are not good tippers. I wonder if it is because lone women are treated in a way that makes them feel not so much like tipping?

Anyway, you get the idea. This waitress was not real interested in serving me. She hurried as I ordered my meal, assumed I wanted ranch dressing on my salad – she asked about that as she was walking away. I made her stop and tell me what dressings they had. She never offered dessert at the end of the meal; just brought me my check like I was done.

I tipped her well anyway. Maybe she was just having a bad day. If not, perhaps she will come to understand that single people deserve a good dining experience as much, if not more so, than a couple or a group of friends. And in spite of her worst efforts, I did have a very good dining experience. I read from a good book. I watched the sunset behind the trees. I savored the taste of my Shiner Bock and the flavors of the chicken and steamed squash. I enjoyed my blue cheese dressing. I thought "life is good." I watched people enjoying themselves. I took pleasure in the feel of a Texas April evening on my skin. I gave thanks for good food and good company in a very special place.

A very wise, widowed friend of mine declared as she shared an experience of being singled out for being single and out, “it is a party of one.”  Party is the key word. It is not always easy to get out there by ourselves, but it is even worse to hide out at home, not experiencing the joys of life because we’re too afraid or embarrassed to go it alone. If I can’t enjoy my own company, why should I bore someone else with it?  What makes me think adding people is the only way to enjoy a cold beer and good food in a great setting. Ok, it is really nice and fun to enjoy these things with others. I’ll be the first to admit that. But there is also something to be said for the “party” of one. 

Here's to you, Jenny. Here's to you.

Soledad's Sojourn

Soledad

There's a long road ahead and she slips into the driver’s seat.
She doesn't know where she's going,
but she's headed for a place where her heart and her head meet.

Driving away, she’s driving away.
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Warnings were there, this time, she knows.
Feeling the pull of the road
and the push from here for her to go.
There’s more here, don't go, but she's gone.
He stands with his guitar, hallow breeze,
and he waits until dawn.

Driving away, she’s driving away.
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Trying to call out, trying to remind her each mile she gains.
Her eyes are ahead, no looking back. This hurt will wane;
letting go of the pain.
Her tears aren't fuel, but its working. Memories aren't company, but keep her on her way.
Too far gone to turn back,
do you hear the words I say?

Driving away, she drives away.
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Snapshots on the visor fade, letting go of the loss that she's always feared.
Hope is a breeze blowing through her hair.
Love is a whisper, but she's not there.

Driving away, she drives away
No destination in sight,
but she'll find her way.

Poem by Amanda C Boteler. December 2009

Used with permission

I fell in love with this poem when Mandy first posted it. Little did I know then that it would be a poem about my life. I am currently in this time and space of utter freedom. I drove away from my job of 15 1/2 years on January 31, 2012. A month later, I drove away from the place I had called home for all those years as well.  Leaving Indiana, I left a marriage of 22 years, a career and a calling, my home and my friends. 

I am currently on a "leave of absence." I prefer to call it a sabbatical or a sacred journey to renew and rest and discern. For the first month I have relied upon the good graces and hospitality of friends and family. I went sledding down a hill for the very first time. I repaired and paddled my new skin-on-frame kayak among alligators and tankers. I walked trails, drank beer, enjoyed opening shows at photo galleries, ate incredible food, slept late, talked with a counselor and began the wonderful task of catching up with people dear to me. Thank you Val, Ed, John & Jane, Becky & Joel & Joseph, Mark, Jim, Eric, Joan, Diane and mom. You provided this intentionally unemployed and homeless one a safe place to land as I planned the next step.

The next step is this: a journey of solitude. Soledad's Sojourn. I have driven away once again, leaving the safety and security of family and friends to travel solo. Along the way I hope to learn more and more about myself and to fall in love all over again with God and God's creation. I plan to tap into the creative spirit that has been silenced and buried deep the past many years. I'm going places I've longed to go and I will paddle in waters that I have yet to explore. I am open to the experience of just being. I will trust my instincts, grieve my loses and dream new dreams.  Hope is indeed the breeze blowing through my hair. Love is a whisper, but I'm no longer there. I'm driving away to that place where my  head and heart might meet.