The Magic of Uluru

Oh my gosh!  It was so cold!  I stood in the early morning air and pulled my old, comfortable, black sweater tighter around me.  I was, needless to say, completely unprepared and underdressed for this experience.  But then again, that just seems to be the way I operate.  I usually get so excited about an event, I don’t always think things through or plan as effectively as I should.  This morning was no exception.  I was freezing…and yet at the same time, I couldn’t stop smiling!  This moment…this dark, bone-chilling moment…was the culmination of a dream come true.

I had arrived in Alice Springs, Australia, on Friday, September 02, 2017.  I had dreamed for years of seeing Ayers Rock.  I have always been an earth person.  I know that some people (some people?) may think I’m a little crazy, but I swear I can look at mountains, hills, and boulders, and actually see them moving.  I don’t just mean blades of grass ruffled by wind or leaves on trees tussling with the breeze.  I can sit for hours and watch the earth breath as it inhales and exhales in slow modulations.  There is a pulse to the earth that seems to vibrate with my own soul.  I can find absolute beauty in rock formations and believe I am glimpsing the universe when I stare into the fissures  and fractures of stone.  Maybe that’s why I love crystals and keep a collection of amethyst, quartz, jasper, and pyrite with me at all times.  When I can touch the crystals, I can feel the vibration of the earth even when I am trapped in my home or at work.  I can find God in a small pebble, in a grain of sand.  So, of course, Ayer’s Rock was always a place that I fantasized about visiting someday, and now that dream was being fulfilled.

I woke up on Saturday, September 03, at 4 am feeling very excited and very alive even though I had only four hours of sleep the night before.  Although, I knew I was going to be out late on Friday night, I still couldn’t resist the opportunity to see the sunrise over Ayer’s Rock this morning.  I quickly showered, dressed, and then left my hotel room.  My room just happened to be in the back of a resort of small, well-space-out cabins.  I stepped through my doorway into completely obscurity.  I was surprised that the resort didn’t have a lot of outdoor lighting.  In the dark, I made several wrong turns as I tried to navigate the many different paths that lead to theaters, museums, and restaurants.  Eventually, I found my way to the front lobby as several people were already boarding our tour bus.  I don’t know if people were excited or cold but either way everyone was moving around and talking enthusiastically as we climbed aboard the vehicle.  Once we were underway, the driver, a large, sweet, young man, told us the history and legends of Ayer’s Rock, the Maori people, and the outback.  I really loved hearing that the Australian parliament had voted to change the names of treasured monuments back to the original names that were created by the Maori, the native people of Australia.  Ayer’s Rock now only refers to the general area.  The rock itself is known by the native name of Uluru.

Once we arrived at the site, all of the passengers gathered around tables that held large hot water urns, coffee, tea, and cookies.  In the freezing morning air, it felt good to hold a cup of coffee in my cold hands.  I sipped at the hot liquid as our guides encouraged us to fill our pockets with packages of cookies in case we got hungry throughout the day.  Once I refilled my foam cup with coffee and stuffed my pockets with treats, a young female tour guide walked over to me.  “If you are ready, you can go on up to the viewing area.  Just follow the path,” she said.  I stared in the direction the woman pointed.  It was still completely dark!  I couldn’t see anything beyond the generated glow around the snack tables.  The tour guide then pointed as she said, “There…just follow the lights.”  I looked again in the direction she was pointing and noticed small twinkling red and green fairy lights that were positioned on the ground just a few feet apart.  The lights were so small, so subtle, and placed so far apart, I hadn’t noticed them at first.

Now, while the majority of the tour group stayed gathered around the snack table,  I took a deep breath to calm down my racing heart.  I nodded my head, thanked the guide, and then sat off in the darkness, following the blinking lights.  Even though I was stumbling forward on rocky ground in the pitch darkness, I couldn’t help feeling the magic all around me.  I was on sacred ground according to the Maori.  And even though I lost track of the lights and wandered off the trail several times, there was an energy that kept pulling me back in the correct direction again.  It was a long hike up to the viewing area, but with the gentle help of the fairy lights and the energy of the outback, I finally found myself at the bottom of a flight of steps.

I grabbed the rough plank rail and started to climb up to a large wooden platform.  I soon stood on the platform and turned around slowly.  I was surprised to find that Australia was just as beautiful in the dark as it is in the light.  Then, to the south, I noticed a large dark formation rising up in front of me.  Uluru, I sighed as I sensed where the rock resided even though I still couldn’t see it.

Soon, the top of the wooden viewing area grew crowded with other pilgrims.  I smiled as I listened to their excited voices and laughter.  I heard Asian, English, French, Australian, and American accents all around me but I couldn’t see faces, but surprisingly I still felt the companionship and security of being with other people from all over the world.  The darkness, the energy, the stars, the moon, and all of the many people around me made me feel completely connected to the universe in a way I had never imagined before.

I stood there, shivering in the cold air, but did not feel uncomfortable.  Surprisingly, I have never felt more contented anywhere I have ever been, even though I wished I had paid more attention to the environment.  I should have thought more about the weather.  I knew when I planned my Australian trip for late August/early September, the continent would be transitioning from winter into spring.  Also, areas located further north or further south of the equator were cold .  The time of the year and location should have made me aware that there would be a chill in the early mornings,  even though the days would be warm.  But in my excitement of coming to Australia, my sense of direction and knowledge of geography had completely deserted me.  I have always been the type of person who jumped into an experience without planning or thinking it completely through first.

And suddenly I realized I wasn’t the only one…

As I stood in the dark, freezing but happy, a young man approached me.  Out of the shadows, I heard his deep, English accent as he said, “I see you didn’t know it would be cold either.”  I glanced around us and compared all of the bulky, parka-heavy shadows compared to our two lean forms.  I suddenly realized the man was dressed in shorts and a thin t-shirt.  As we watched all of the people moving around us in heavy coats, we laughed and talked for a moment about how unprepared we were for this moment.  Then, slowly, over his right shoulder, I suddenly began to see a soft glow breaking up the darkness.  I stared in the direction of Uluru and watched excitedly as the shadow of the sun slowly began to kiss the huge rock formation.   Uluru began to grow and stood out against the dark sky like a shadow of God.  As the sunrise grew stronger, the rock began to change colors, from black to light brown to golden to red.  I was fascinated by all of the colors that suddenly began to glimmer and sparkle across the surface of the monument.  Uluru continued to shimmer as it breathed slowly in and out.  I could feel the soul of the rock as energy waves radiated out and the formation glowed and change shape in the approaching sunlight.  The visible energy of Uluru resembled ocean waves; it looked like heat rising up off the land; it portrayed an upcoming dream sequence in a movie.  Uluru was natural magic.

As the sun now shined across the outback, I walked down off the platform and followed a trail that lead to a fenced viewing area situated closer to the rock.  I leaned against the fence and stared at Uluru as I watched it breathe, alive and well.  And I knew that despite the cold, despite stumbling around in the dark, I too was alive and well.  And as I watched the energy filling the air around Uluru, I realized that I had been blessed with a dream come true.

And it didn’t matter that I was dressed in a black sweater while most people were wearing parkas.  And I didn’t care that I had tripped and stumbled up the dark path.  It didn’t matter that I was there alone while other people were with friends and family.  Looking at Uluru I realized I had been fortunate to experience a dream come true.  I took a deep breath in and captured the energy of Uluru in my heart and soul and knew that no matter what happened I would be forever bonded to this magnificent land.

And it would be forever a part of me.

 

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Float

I have to admit that I have a strange relationship with water.  Maybe it’s because I am not a strong swimmer.  Okay, to be honest, I’m not a swimmer at all.  However, over the last few years, I have found myself exploring various bodies of water.  There was the journey across the channel from England to Belguim and then to France, the cruise around Lake Mead, the voyage down the Colorado River, the expedition to view glaciers in Alaska, the whale watching adventure in Hawaii (which unfortunately, didn’t produce a single view of the large mammals), and even the gentle drift around the lake on a duck boat in Branson, Missouri.

So even though I have experienced a variety of watery journeys, I have to admit that I still feel a tense anxiety starting in my chest and rising up in my throat every time I board a boat.  Stress grips my heart and tightens my rib cage.  I find myself holding my breath as the boat begins to pull away from the dock. I silently begin to pray, “God, please, don’t let this boat sink.  Please, don’t let me fall overboard.  Please, I can’t swim and this lake (or ocean or sea or creek) is so deep…please, God, please, don’t let this boat go down…please…”

And then, I sigh an audible “…aaahhhh….” as the boat settles into the water and begins to roll back and forth on the waves.  At that moment, an amazing sense of peace and gratitude overwhelms me.  Like second nature, my soul just gives over to the need to be part of something larger than myself.  I look out at the water and feel amazed by the vastness of the universe.  My anxiety always gives way to the most luxurious feeling of peace once I find myself sailing along with the currents.  As the saying goes, “When I stop struggling, I float.”

So that’s why on August 30^th, 2017, I was filled with both excitement and anxiety as I stood in front of the Hotel Pacific in Cairns, Australia.  I was waiting for the tour bus that was going to take me to the port where I would be getting on a boat that would be carrying me out to the Great Barrier Reef.  Though I was already praying for a safe journey, I still couldn’t shake the exhilaration that was pounding through me.  I was about to experience one of the best attractions in Australia.  After ten minutes of prayer and stress, I was finally aboard the Western Winds bus, which was expertly driven by a friendly, older man who looked like the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island.  The heavyset, incredibly kind man had gray wispy strands of hair straining around the sides of his head.  His blue captain’s hat tilting to the left and his crooked smile leaning to the right may not have inspired a lot of confidence, but felt immensely welcomed and respected by this driver as I settled into a seat near the front of the bus.

The drive to the harbor was going to take about an hour with a few stops along the way to pick up additional passengers.  I thought that this would be a great time to catch up on my journal entries. I held my pen over a blank sheet of paper, but I couldn’t concentrate.  I just wanted to stare out the window and see as much of Australia as I possibly could through the large, slightly grimy, thick windows.  I wanted to climb every tree, smell every flower, and count every blade of grass.  I had even stared at all of the hotels and tried to count all of the doors and windows as I tried to commit everything I saw to memory.  But, of course, the bus was moving too fast to experience Australia in this way, so instead I was content for a few minutes to relax back in my seat and watch the two lovely bees buzzing around the front window on the opposite side of the bus.

Finally, we arrived at the pier and the bus driver, who would be traveling to the reef with us, pointed in the direction of the dock where our boat was waiting.  I was glad he was there to direct us; the harbor was full of a multitude of ships of various styles and colors.

Once aboard, crewmembers greeted the passengers in the cabin with coffee, tea, cookies, and an interesting presentation on coral and sea life by a marine biologist.  Twenty minutes later, as the boat revved up and started to move out into the ocean, I once more started to pray, “God, please, don’t let this boat sink…”

But within a few short minutes, the sense of awe overcame me and I started to relax as the boat rocked back and forth on the water.  Aaaaahhhh.  I couldn’t help the deep sigh of serenity that escaped my lips as the boat moved further away from the dock.  With the majority of the other tourists, I climbed the white metal stairway to the top of the boat.  My sudden sense of peace had compelled me to sit where I could observe the water, the sun, the fluffy clouds, the pure blue sky, and the other boats that sailed along beside us.

I settled down on one of the red vinyl benches that bordered the top tier of the boat.  I closed my eyes and let my body relax with the swaying of the ship as I breathed in the smooth, warm air….at first.

Within a few minutes, however, my eyes popped open and I sat up straight.  The strong currents were pushing the boat sideways and the wind was blowing so hard that the red canopy covering the boat began to snap loudly as it flapped up and down.  I put my hands down on the bench to grip the edge of my seat.  I felt my body beginning to roll as the boat rocked violently back and forth.  I glanced at all of the people sitting on the other benches around me.  Though everyone seemed to be gripping onto their seats or trying to push the widely blown hair out of their faces, I grew concerned that I was going to embarrass myself by getting sick.  I had never been on a wilder ride out on the water.  I was now mentally kicking myself for not accepting one of the seasick pills that the crewmembers had passed around before the ship left the dock.  I’m not a believer in taking any sort of pills unless absolutely necessary and I had never gotten sick on a boat before.  Anxiety and stress, yes, but never physically sick.

I decided then that my best course of action would be to go downstairs to the cabin and see if I could still get one of those little blue pills.  I pushed myself up from the bench and started to walk across the white wooden planks that made up the floor of the upper tier of the boat.  Oh, my gosh…what was happening!?  I couldn’t get my footing with the crazy rocking of the ship.  I hadn’t had any of the wine or champagne that the crew had offered earlier and yet I couldn’t walk a straight line no matter how hard I tried!  And I did try hard.

My goal was to walk over to the steps leading down to the galley.  However, as I tried to walk towards the stairs, I moved my legs straight and yet found myself high stepping to the left!  I tried to walk to the right and got my legs all tangled up and almost tripped myself.  I straightened my legs and found myself suddenly lurching to the left again.  I was suddenly aware, even with the noise of the wind whipping through the canopy, the flags, and various clothing items, that no one was talking or laughing anymore.  Everyone had suddenly grown still as they watched me walking (?) rubber legged across the upper deck.  Oh, my gosh, was my only thought now, these people must think I’m stinkin’ drunk.  I tried to force myself to straighten my back and hips and walk forward, but I was still all wobbly legged and continued moving right in order to go left!  I swear I was walking like a drunken sailor back from a three-day leave!  I struggled to get my footing and found myself sliding backwards two steps for every one-step I moved forward.

Finally, a young man  wearing a yellow t-shirt and multi-colored, striped shorts stood up and took a few steps towards me.  He started to reach out his right hand to grab my arm, but he was too late.  I tumbled away from him just as he made a grab for me.  The man tried one more time, but we missed each other again as he stumbled in one direction and my body was thrown the opposite way.  At that point, the man basically gave up as he threw up his arms and backed away, leaving me completely to my own devices.  Trying to regain some sense of balance, we both walked wide-legged towards the stairs as the ship rolled back and forth.

And then…success!  I did it!  I got to the steps first but I don’t think the man had put up much of a fight.  I suddenly realized that he had let me win so I would go down the stairs first and avoid falling on top of him if I fell.  So, now I was anxious to prove that his assessment of my awkward movements was completely wrong.  I was determined to get down the stairs without a stumble.  I gripped the white metal railing and carefully lowered myself down one-step at a time as the man followed cautiously behind me.

I now walked across the lower deck and entered the galley.  It wasn’t until I was on the carpeted floors of the cabin that I was finally able to walk straight.  Thankfully, the crewmembers had placed numerous little blister packets of the seasick pills in a large, plastic, blue bowl on a wooden counter by the door.  I still grabbed two of the packets and placed them in the pocket of my jeans as one of the male attendants reminded me that the pills only really work if taken before leaving port.  Oh, well…I would save them for the journey back.

After leaving the galley, I decided not to even try going back to the upper deck.  Instead, I carefully edged my way across the lower level and sat down on a bench.  Now, I felt more relaxed and calm as I sat by myself watching the tall waves as they splashed up against the boat.

About 30 minutes later, I was amazed to see a tall lighthouse situated on a small island come into view and the boat slowly began to drift to a gentle stop.  Our ship didn’t dock on the island.  Instead, like all of the other boats in the area, our vessel dropped anchor and we continued to bop up and down on the waves, the island still 100 feet away from us.  To get to the island, all passengers were transferred on to large sailboats.  Now, maybe from sheer relieve that I had survived the journey to the Great Barrier Reef, I joyfully and gracefully stepped across the gap between the two boats and settled myself into a seat.  I was now on a glass bottom boat and eagerly leaned forward to view the reef as the marine biologist pointed out various varieties of coral, fish, turtles, and clams.  I was so fascinated by the view that I completely forgot for a moment that I was still on a boat that was rocking with the currents.  I felt as if I was peering into an alien world, an advanced civilization that I could only see from the outside looking in.  I really wanted to be a part of that world but decided not to go scuba diving.  Again, I am not a strong swimmer (okay, honestly, once again, I’m not a swimmer at all!) and was afraid I would hold back the group that would be following along on a guided tour led by the biologist.

Instead, I carefully exited the boat and sunk my feet into the warm deep sand of the island.  I roamed around by myself for a while as I waded in the cool Pacific water, took long deep breaths, played in the sand, and snapped a lot of pictures, filling up a single memory card.  I probably overdid it with the pictures , but the scene was far too beautiful to trust it just to my memory.  I didn’t trust my jumbled and scattered brain to take it all in or remember the amazing sights.  After a while of roaming aimlessly and purposely, I sat with one of my fellow passengers in the shade and discussed our various travels.  The elderly gentleman was from Sydney, and joyfully informed me of all of the main attractions I had to visit when I explored that area of Australia the following week.

After a tour around the island with the marine biologist, the passengers and crew explored the lighthouse and the small grave that held the remains of the first woman to be the caretaker of the lighthouse.   I stood for a few moments over the grave and imagined what life must have been like for this woman, who had lived in solitude while her husband was away on the continent for the majority of their lives.  She had lived on this island, fighting the elements, surviving alone while making sure the lighthouse would always be bright to save the many ships from harm.  So many years ago, what had life been like for this strong, courageous woman?

All too soon, the sailboat arrived to take my group back to our boat.  Once again, everyone was settled into the gallery with cups of tea or coffee and cookies.  I sat in a booth with the elderly Sydney man and his wife as we talked about our homes and travels and waited for the boat to rev up again and carry us back to port.  Not taking any chances, I covertly swallowed one of the seasick pills and prepared myself for the journey.  I was hoping that the ride back would be much smoother.  We would be going with the currents this time since we were traveling in the opposite direction now, right?  But then, the Sydney man informed me.  “The journey to and from the island is always rough because we never go with the currents.  The distance between the dock and the island is always going across the currents.”  I just smiled and nodded as if I had expected this, but in my head, I had started to pray again.  “Oh, God, please, don’t let this ship sink…”

After a few minutes, I decided to be courageous and step outside onto the lower deck.  I took a seat on one of the benches as a middle-aged couple settled into seats to the right of me.  And this time, as the ship moved across the water, I couldn’t stop laughing!  Instead of rocking back and forth on this journey, the boat was literally bouncing up off the water!  The waves were so high that our ship would sail up into the air and then flop back down onto the water with a loud smack.  I had to jump up and change my seat several times as heavy waves splashed up over the white railings of the boat and flooded the lower deck.  A few times, I clung to my seat as the boat sunk down below the surface of the waves and then shot straight up in the air again.  Many times, my hands lost their grip on the edge of the seat and my body was basically airborne, with my little skinny legs kicking helplessly in the air, as I flew up over the deck and then smacked back down on my bottom on the bench again.

I don’t know if it was the seasick pills or just the joy of being alive, but I didn’t feel afraid.  Instead the wild ride exhilarated me.  I had never experienced anything like this before and I was excited by the whole adventure.  As a gigantic wave once again chased me out of my seat, I crookedly walked across the deck and stood on the other side as one of the female crew members walked out of the galley.  The young woman stood for a moment and brushed her long, blond hair back out of her face before she suddenly said, “Look!  Look at the whales!”  She pointed excitedly out at the ocean.  I turned quickly just as two large glorious whales leaped out of the water, their white and silver bodies glistening in the sun before they flopped back down into the ocean.   Their movement caused our boat to roll violently to the right side, but I didn’t care.  Oh, my gosh…there were large whales right in front of my eyes!  I carefully crossed the deck again and gripped hold of a thick metal white pole just as the two whales shot straight up out of the water again and this time a small baby whale jumped with the them!  I laughed out loud as I suddenly realized that the boat had been rocking and flying into the air because of the whales frolicking so closely to us.  The whales had been circling around us ever since we had left the island.  Now, all of the passengers were crowded out on the deck as the whales continued to cavort around us and follow our boat back into port.

After a few more minutes, our ship pulled up to the dock and all of the passengers carefully disembarked as we tried to now walk on solid ground with our legs still rubbery and wobbly.  Everyone  settled back on the bus again as our lovely driver drove back to our various hotels.  I was exhausted but also feeling very alive as I rested my head against the cool glass of the window by my seat.  I was so pleased now to have had such an amazing adventure on the ocean today.  I thought of the fear and stress I had felt as  I get on the boat and it all seemed so silly now.  I love the water!  Once again, the excitement, the beauty, and the basic joy of being alive had overcome my stress and fear.  And that’s exactly the way life should be…

 

 

 

 

Highway Lessons

Last Sunday, February 19, was my day off from work.  I had been looking forward to it even though I didn’t have anything planned.  But that’s the way I usually enjoy my days off.  I don’t like having a full schedule or having any place in particular that I need to be.  So, that morning, I woke up slowly and got dressed.  Then I spent an hour or so lingering over a cup of coffee and a mystery novel.  I reveled in the feeling of just lazing around for a while before going to the gym.  I spent an hour exercising my legs and doing some cardio.  I was relaxed and at peace….

Well, at least, until I was driving home after my work out.  I felt a little anxious while I was on the highway.  I was eager to get back home.  I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish that afternoon.  I needed to clean my house and work on my novel.  I needed to file my taxes and pay bills.  I wasn’t feeling stressed; I was just motivated to get on with my day.  I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down.  I smiled as I listened to my stereo and watched the highway unfold in front of me.  The drive home was peaceful…

Until it wasn’t any more.

Wait!  What’s this?  What’s happening?

I came around a bend in the highway and suddenly found that traffic had slowed down before coming to a complete stop.  All three lanes of the northbound 435 were blocked by stranded cars.  I suddenly found myself waiting in a long line of traffic in the far right lane.  I was still too far away to know what was causing the traffic jam, but the cars directly in front of me suddenly began to veer over to the left to get into the middle lane.  I quickly swerved over, too, before traffic could build up too heavily behind me.  Once more, I found myself sitting in the middle of traffic as I watched two police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance, all with sirens blaring, speeding by on the shoulder of the highway.

After a few moments, traffic slowly began to move forward; however, the cars in my lane were once more merging to the left and pushing into the fast lane.  I looked in my rearview mirror and noticed a small gap opening up in the left lane.  A large black SUV was still a few feet away.  I began to maneuver to the left when the SUV suddenly sped forward and closed the gap, shutting me out.  I was a little shocked that the man behind the wheel would not allow me the opportunity to merge.  I glared at him for a moment before pulling back into the middle lane and creeping forward a few feet.  Again, I noticed a gap in the left lane and started to ease over, just to be once more cut off by a woman in a small red Toyota Camry.  I shook my head and then tried again to get in the left lane.  The cars in front of me had already merged over to the left.  Why was I finding it so difficult to get a break in the heavy traffic?  Over and over again, five, six, seven times, vehicles zoomed forward without giving me a break.  I was trapped behind police cars and fire trucks that were now parked directly in front of me in the middle lane.  I was stuck; there was no room for me to move forward.  I had no choice; I had to merge but just couldn’t seem to find a kind-hearted person to have pity on me and allow me a break.

Even though I didn’t know what the problem was, I knew this was a dangerous situation.  I just had to be patient and not cause any further problems.  I reminded myself that someone would be kind enough to give me a break sooner or later.  I told myself to be kind to other people.  I needed to allow other drivers the opportunity to get through the backed up traffic.  So as I waited for a break to merge to the left, I stopped and allowed a few cars from the far right lane in front of me.  That probably wasn’t the best idea.  I was stuck even deeper in the middle of traffic now.  Again, I took another deep breath.  Be cool!  I told myself.  Don’t make a bad situation worse.

But I was still sitting in the middle of traffic with my blinker clicking and a little green arrow flashing on my dashboard.  I kept inching over to the left only to find my front bumper in danger of being knocked off by speeding cars that were pushing around me and not allowing me access to the fast lane.  Feeling trapped and beginning to think I was going to be in this position for the rest of the day, I now began to get agitated and irritated.  My patience had started to run very thin.  Why was this happening?  I wondered.  Why are all of these people being so rude?  I have to admit then I was getting really impatient and angry.  How is this fair?  I was tired of just sitting on the highway being pushed around by the other drivers.  And I admit I used a few words I hadn’t said in a very long time.  I cussed and swore and said things I would never want to repeat….I’m still surprised that I said them in the first place.  But I was just so aggravated with everyone at this point.  I finally realized that if I wanted to get anywhere that afternoon I would have to be aggressive and demanding.  I finally realized that I would just have to push my way into the left lane.  I stared into the side mirror until I noticed another small gap in the line of traffic.  I took a deep breath and quickly swung my car over to the left.  I just prayed that the person who was driving in the fast lane would stop, especially since I was straddling both lanes.  Then as traffic moved forward, I quickly pulled into the left lane, drove past the fire truck and ambulance….

…And suddenly, my breath caught in my throat.

Now, that I had driven around the fire truck, I could see the situation clearly.  A massive car wreck had taken place just moments earlier.  Two cars were sitting on the left shoulder of the highway and a third car was halfway in a ditch on the right.  I couldn’t see any damage to these cars, but I wasn’t really paying that much attention to them.  Instead, my eyes and mind became focused on a fourth car that was in the right hand lane.  The car was upside down and the roof and windows no longer exited.  The car was lying completely flat.  Oh, my gosh, seeing the way the car was situated, I couldn’t imagine that the driver and passengers had survived.  There was no way anyone in that black, muddy car could have lived through this wreck.  The top of the car was smashed flat down on the highway.

Tears burned in my eyes and I felt myself gasping for breath.  I started saying quick prayers for all the souls involved in this wreck.  But I couldn’t stop on the highway.  I needed to keep moving and that was alright because I just wanted to get away now.  I quickly drove down the highway and away from the damage.  I was really ashamed of myself.  How could I have gotten so upset at the other drivers for not letting me switch lanes?  Why couldn’t I have just remained calm and patient?  People lost their lives just now on this highway and here I was getting upset because I thought people were being rude to me.

The other drivers actually weren’t being rude, I realized now.  It wasn’t anything personal.  Everyone was just stressed and frustrated and just wanted to get on their way.  I had been so bad today.  I had cursed the cars zooming past me and completely forgotten that there were real, vulnerable people inside those other vehicles.  Instead of getting irritated, I should have just said prayers for everyone to be protected and to arrive safely at their destination.  The awful sight of the smashed, overturned car was a perfect reminder that we are all so fragile and need to be treated with kindness, dignity, and respect.  We are all only human and so quickly because of one outrageous, silly mistake, life can be gone so quickly

As I drove down the highway, I continued to pray for the people involved in the wreck and for all of the other drivers around me.  I asked that God protect everyone traveling on the highway that day.  I apologized to God for getting so upset and angry.  I then told God that I was just so tired of all of the hatefulness, the death, and the destruction that seemed to be so prominent in the world today.  Make it stop, God, please.

And just then, I drove around a bend and there, by the side of the highway, was a field full of bright beautiful flowers.  Colorful spring flowers were lining the side of the highway on this cold February day.  And there was a small sign right in front that read “Wildflowers in Bloom.”  I smiled then and drove the rest of the way home with a joyful heart and the world suddenly at peace.

 

 

 

 

My Vegas

About three weeks ago, I was in Las Vegas again.  Yes, again.  It was possibly my twelfth visit to Nevada.  For several years, I lived in Southern California which was just four hours southwest of Las Vegas.  The fantasy city became my weekend get-away destination.  I would make the long, joyful drive through the shockingly beautiful desert on Friday mornings and spend the weekend exploring the strip and surrounding territories.  I would attend concerts and go to special events.  I would sip iced teas while watching all of the colorful people on the streets.  Vegas is the most amazing place to people watch.  Colorful, dressed-up characters, beautiful showgirls, amusing musicians, creative dancers, and aggressive vendors decorate the strip in all kinds of surprisingly bizarre and fascinating manners.  There’s always something to watch, to see, to do, to enjoy in Vegas.

Over the years, I have grown so comfortable with the city, I have no fear of walking the strip by myself at night.  I am careful.  I take precautions.  I do things such as leaving my purse in the hotel room and dressing down so I don’t bring attention to myself.  I walk confidently down the street as if I always know where I’m going and what I’m doing, even though in reality, I’m just roaming around completely dazzled by all of the lights, colors, and designs of the hotels and casinos.  My favorite time to wander is in the early mornings.  I casually stroll down the strip as I watch the sun rising up over the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel and glowing  through the spokes of the High Roller, the large Ferris wheel that is located between the Flamingo and Linq hotels.

I know I am bragging about my Vegas vacations.  I always boast about Vegas.  I happily post many pictures of Nevada on my Facebook page; I share copies of my Vegas travel journals; I talk continually about my adventures in the bright city.  I don’t smoke or drink or gamble, but that doesn’t make any difference.  Filled with amazing attractions and interesting experiences, Vegas is still a wonderland to me.  Not only is the city so interesting, but Vegas is so central to other amazing attractions as well.  My trips to Nevada have also included walking across the Hoover Dam, sailing around Lake Mead, touring the Colorado River, and exploring the red cliffs of St. George, Utah.

Vegas is one of my absolute favorite places on earth.  That revelation surprises a lot of people, though.  I always get questioned about that statement.  I usually get asked by someone, “How can you possibly love Vegas after you have been to so many other beautiful places?”  Other questions have been, “Yuck! How can you stand the kitschiness of Vegas?” “How could you possible enjoy Vegas after you just returned from Alaska (which just happened this year)?”

All right, I will clarify.  First of all, I stated that Las Vegas is ONE of my favorite places.  The city is one of hundreds of favorite places I have seen on this earth.  I have been very fortunate to have traveled so extensively.  I have driven through all fifty states, lived in England, journeyed through Europe, briefly visited Thailand, and backpacked across Malaysia.  I have amazing memories and favorite places through all of my journeys.  Vegas is on my list of favorite places though the ranking constantly changes with each new travel experience I have.

Usually, when I am asked why I love Vegas, I respond with an answer that lives deep in my soul.  I usually say, “Life is good.  Life is so good!”  There are so many wonderful things in life.  I never understood why anyone would pick to live or to do or  to read or to listen to or to see or  to be just one thing.  I want it all.  I want all that life has to offer.  I don’t want to choose just one type of book or music or movie or religion or drink or food or people to enjoy.  I want to see the sunrise over the High Roller as much as I want to see the sunrise over the Rocky Mountains.  I want to see the lights glittering over Las Vegas in the middle of the night in the same way that I saw the casinos of Monte Carlo glistening in the distant darkness as my friends and I stood on top of a cliff overlooking Monaco.  It doesn’t matter; it’s all life and it’s all beautiful to me.

Though I am currently planning trips to Australia and other countries, I will always return to Vegas.  Yes, there are times when Vegas can get a little rough.  I have seen things like people drunk in the streets and  showgirls who display a little more of their “belongings” than I really care to see.  But it doesn’t matter.  I don’t get involved or worry about the negative.  I know that I will continue to stand mesmerized in front of the dancing waters of the Bellagio and thrill over the dolphins of the Mirage no matter how many times I have already experienced those things in the past.

I think everyone needs to experience Las Vegas at least once in his or her life.  Vegas is one of the most iconic American cities that is consistently depicted in TV shows, movies, books, and magazines.  Media cannot capture the full ambiance and pageantry of the city.  It is a surreal fantasyland that is set in beautiful contrast to the glaciers in Alaska, the mountains in Colorado, and the oceans of California.  It is the quintessential yin and yang of life, which all needs to be experienced and explored.

Since I moved to Kansas last year, getting to Vegas is a little more complicated for me.  The journey now includes a plane ride, but that’s all right.  It’s all part of the adventure.  And that’s exactly what life is…an endless adventure.  Vegas is just one of the many amazing stops I have made on the incredible journey of life.

Alaska

Yugen

1. Important concept in traditional Japanese aesthetics. “Dim,” “Deep,” or “Mysterious”
2. Awareness of the universe that triggers emotional responses too deep and mysterious for words.

In 1996, Jon Krakauer, the author of Into Thin Air, published an amazing, thoughtful book entitled Into the Wild.  This book tells the true story of Christopher Johnson McCandless who, after graduating from college, spurned his former affluent life and the bright, comfortable future ahead of him.  Motivated by books he read by Jack London and John Muir, McCandless dedicated himself to a personal vision quest that began in the western and southwestern regions of America.  Changing his name to Alexander Supertramp, McCandless gave his savings of  $25,000 to charity, abandoned all his possessions, left his car in the Mojave Desert, and burned all of his cash to ensure that nothing would hold him back from his journey.  Looking for his own personal paradise on this earth, McCandless even threw away all of his maps and traveled only by his intuition.  In April 1992, McCandless hitchhiked into Alaska and walked into the vast cold wilderness north of Mount McKinley.  For a while, McCandless found shelter in an abandoned old school bus.  Four months later, however, his body was found by a moose hunter.

No one knows what ultimately motivated McCandless’s careless journey.  Questions still remain about a young man’s need to walk away from a rich and promising future to live homeless and starving  in the barren wildness of Alaska.  Some people claim that McCandless had a death wish and a need for self-destruction.    Others just dismiss McCandless’s actions as foolish and innocently reckless.

Well, I guess I am foolish and reckless too….

I don’t claim to know what was in McCandless’s head or why he choose his particular lifestyle, but there is a core element inside of me that feels so connected to his story.  In response to Krakauer’s consistent questions in the book about McCandless’s journey, I think I understand.

There are so many of us on this earth who don’t always feel that we belong in a world that overwhelms us with violent, materialistic, opportunistic situations.  Some of us who struggle to cope, do not medicate ourselves from the stress with alcohol, food, cigarettes, sex, gambling, or prescription drugs, but we do experience a deep and compelling lust all the same.  Wanderlust and the need to move, to travel, to create a universe of our own existence is a hunger that is rarely satisfied.

Restless, never able to settle down, I constantly look for opportunities to escape my existence.  I have no intention of doing this through self-harm.  I just have a relentless need to be lost.  When I travel, I rarely call or text anyone.  I love driving alone down deserted highways  without a single person knowing where I am in that exact moment.  I enjoy the solitude, the drifting away from my reality.  This has been my lifestyle for the last thirty years.

In July, 2016, I finally had the opportunity to realize a lifelong dream.  I spent time this summer exploring Alaska.  This was an amazing turning point for me.  I had made a vow to myself that I would drive through every state in America.  Alaska was the last state I needed to visit in order to satisfy this goal.  However, I refused to celebrate this accomplishment.  I didn’t post notices about it on Facebook.  I didn’t write blogs about my experience.  I just didn’t feel the need.

While I was in Alaska, I felt inspired to go completely off the grid.  I wanted desperately to be lost.  I wanted to cut off all communication to my former life.  I didn’t call or text anyone.  I only posted a few pictures on Facebook when I felt overwhelmed by the incredible scenery of glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, and animals.  But I only posted about 20 of the 350 photos I took.  I haven’t posted any more pictures or information about Alaska since I returned to Kansas.  There is a deep part of me that just needs to keep it quiet and hidden.  To experience so much of God’s amazing wilderness was so profound and awe-inspiring there was no way of putting it into words.  Even the beautiful pictures I have seem bleak when compared to the Alaskan landscape itself.  To this day, two months later, I have no desire to tell people about all of the amazing things that happened to me in Alaska.

However…

I think constantly of running away again to the “last frontier.”  I want to hide in her vast beauty and get lost in her majestic environment.  I want to run with her wilderness and dissolve into her endless splendor.

My life’s purpose was  redefined in Alaska.  I came into contact with who God intended me to be.  I was never meant to have the things of an ordinary life.  I was not meant to have a great job, or a wonderful marriage, or an incredible home.  My only life’s purpose is to grow closer to God.  To know him by his world, by the beauty that surrounds me.  I don’t have to be anything…in Alaska, I can just be…

I don’t care about success, or a home, or money.  Just knowing in my heart and soul that I can move and explore and witness God’s glory is enough for me in this lifetime.

I don’t know Christopher McCandless’s motivation for his journey.

I didn’t travel from this life as far as Christopher did.

But there are times I really wish I had followed him.

 

 

My Personal Independence

Why do these things keep happening to me?

That’s not a complaint.  I’m not whining or asking for sympathy.  I know that I have been blessed.  I know that I have had a good life.  The question is of the straight-forward, searching-for-answers variety that would bring understanding to my chronically crazy life.  I am just looking for some perspective, some meaning for the series of strange events that have occurred in my life lately.  Does everything really happen for a reason?  If it does, than what has been the purpose of incidents happening in the last couple of years?

In particular…

I can’t seem to stop living out of my car!  For the past ten years, I have rented a variety of apartments throughout Southern California.  Yes, it is true…I have moved about seven times since I arrived in Palm Springs, California, in October of 2004.  I have moved so many times that one of my friends told me that she always dedicates a full page of her address book just to me because she knows she will have to make constant updates.  She made the comment, “You move more than someone on the lam.”  She’s right, I suppose.  I do move around a lot.  Is the change due to my constant restlessness and wanderlust?  Actually, no….

There is a deep part of me that dreams of settling down somewhere.  I dream of setting down roots, having a family, becoming a familiar face in the community.  But circumstances have continually caused me to move, not into a house but into the bucket seats of my 2010 Toyota Scion.

Before the Scion was home, my main residence was a 2002 Toyota Tacoma.  Every time I think of that pick-up truck, I get a horrible case of homesickness.  I have more feelings of “Home” for that truck than any place I’ve ever lived in California.  I have never stayed anywhere else long enough, I guess, to get attached to a particular structure.

I moved into my first California apartment in 2004.  I was there for eight months until the owners decided to sell the property.  I was told to either by the rundown, ‘70s decorated one-bedroom place or get out.  I got out…and moved into my truck.  My next apartment was a small studio where I stayed for almost two years until new management refused to repair leaky air conditioners, fix broken windows, and control the roach problem…and then doubled the rent! Back into the truck I moved.  I stayed in the truck until I rented my next apartment in Oceanside, California.  I had been offered a new position with higher pay.  Within six months, however, the Oceanside company folded.  Thankfully, my old job in Palm Springs took me back.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t commute four hours a day nor pay for two separate apartments, so I stayed in my truck until the lease on the Oceanside apartment had ended.

The next apartment I had in Palm Springs was my favorite.  I stayed there for almost two years until my mother moved to California and into the apartment with me.  Suddenly, the studio apartment seemed much smaller.  Mom and I didn’t move into my truck.  Instead, we moved into a two-bedroom apartment that featured a multitude of lizards running around the courtyard.  Little lizards were always waiting on the porch to greet us every time we opened the front door.  Mom and I lived in that apartment for eight months until I lost my mother to colon cancer in March 2010.  I couldn’t maintain a two-bedroom apartment by myself.  I didn’t move back into the pickup this time.  Instead, I was living in a 2010 Toyota Scion which had replaced the truck the year before.  Man, I miss that truck!

Later, I moved into a one bedroom apartment determined that I would make it a home…which I did for two and a half years until mice moved into the walls.  The owners of the building just laughed at me when I complained.  “You’re living in the desert,” they said.  “You’re going to have snakes, mice, lizards, and roaches in every apartment no matter how clean you keep it!”  Oh, the apartment was also haunted.  The manager couldn’t seem to explain away the spirits, which actually didn’t seem to bother me.  My friend, Olga, always laughs at this incident.  She says, “You stayed with the ghosts, but moved with the mice.”  Well, yeah, mice are scary!  Thank goodness, my car doesn’t have mice…or ghost.

My last California apartment was in Palm Desert where I lived for 18 months until more little critters chased me back into my Scion.  Maybe I should have stood my ground and not little the creatures push me around.  Maybe I should have demanded that the critters leave, especially since they weren’t paying rent.  Being nervous about confrontations though, I ended up being the one to move out.  I threw all of my things into storage and sadly moved back into my Toyota Scion, feeling like a complete failure.

My friend, Terry, helped me move the last of my possessions into the storage space on July 4^th, Independence Day.   I was really not happy about the situation when Terry placed the very last item into the bin and I shut and locked the door.  My whole life awkwardly fit into a tiny 5 X 5 space.

Suddenly, Terry looked at me and said excitedly, “Oh my gosh!  Happy Independence Day!  You’re free!” I turned to look at her in surprise.  “This is so great for you,” Terry continued to say.  “I wish I was like you.  Without the apartment and lots of possessions, you have no obligations.  You’re so free.  You don’t get held down by anything.  You just travel and go whenever you want.  What an amazing way to live!”

I stared at her for a moment.  It was an interesting perspective she just presented to me.  I could whine that I didn’t have a home or I could celebrate my freedom.  It suddenly dawned on me that every time I switched apartments, I actually did celebrate.  After I left the first apartment, I drove through Southwestern America.  When I left the second apartment, I drove cross country to the Northeast.  After the third, I think I ended up in Pacific Northwest.  I suddenly began to think about all the great places I’ve been when I was in between homes.  With freedom and my home life contained in my car, I usually just drove everywhere my wanderlust encouraged me.  Now, my sudden new liberty was filling my head with dreams of the very last American state I had to visit—Alaska!

“Yeah,” I smiled back at Terry then, “you’re right.  I do have a lot of freedom.”

“Independence!  Happy 4^th of July!” Terry cried as we hugged each other for a moment.  “I want to be not only free but brave like you!  I’m proud of you.”

And that’s maybe why I don’t have a home.  Maybe that’s why these things keep happening to me.  Maybe there is a reason, a purpose, a plan.  Maybe I am supposed to be on the road discovering God’s beautiful land.

I’m not totally free.  Alaska will have to wait a few more weeks because of my job.  But as I lie down every night in the back seat of my Toyota Scion to sleep, I continue to dream of Alaska and my incredibly bright, unknown, unpredictable future and I know I am home.

Finding Meaning in Las Vegas

Even though I’ve enjoyed traveling around the world, I have been thinking lately that it is time for me to settle down. I need to get married, have a family, own a home and, perhaps, a dog. I’ve never been married and, honestly, I don’t have a lot of faith that it’s a possibility for me. I’m not good at flirting. I am awkward and shy. I’ve always been an outsider. I don’t do well with social games. I always tend to lose.

But last weekend, I was determined to change all of that. I was taking a few days off to go to Las Vegas. I just knew that this was going to be a great weekend for me. I had fantasies that I was going to meet someone very special. I tend to attract more people when I go out of town than when I’m at home. That’s easy to understand though. When I’m in my home city, I run around in sweats, with no make-up and my hair is unkempt. It’s different when I go out of town. I tend to make an effort to make myself more attractive.

So last Saturday, while I was in Vegas, I woke up early and took my time fixing my hair and make-up. I put on a long skirt that makes me look taller. My 5’5” frame looked slimmed and stretched to at least 5’7. I felt great and attractive as I walked down the Vegas strip. I’ll admit I did a few tosses of my long curled copper red hair as I smiled beguilingly at the people walking around me. I even caught myself glancing every now and then at my reflection in the windows of the shops and restaurants as I passed by. I laughed and took pictures and just felt happy and attractive… until I reached one of the overhead pedestrian walkways that crossed over South Las Vegas Boulevard.

I decided not to take the escalator or elevator. I felt strong and healthy so I went bounding up the twelve concrete steps. I was near the top of the stairs when suddenly the front tip of the sandal on my right foot caught on the edge of the top step and I felt myself pitching forward.

I put out my hands but wasn’t able to stop myself. I fell forward onto my face but that wasn’t the end of this escapade. By the time it registered in my brain that I was always falling, I was already rolling down the steps. Within seconds, I found myself sprawled in a tangle of limbs and long full skirt on the corner of Aria and South Las Vegas Boulevard. I laid there for a moment burning with embarrassment in front of all of the people. Yet, I felt strangely alone. No one helped me up. No one asked me if I was okay. Then I opened my eyes to find a group of men standing on the corner pointing at me and laughing hysterically.

I looked down at the palms of my hands that were scrapped raw. My left foot felt twisted and bruised. My biggest concern though was my camera. The little bottom door of the camera laid open and the batteries were falling out. Amid the sounds of loud laughter and chattering voices, I pulled myself up from the ground and snapped my camera back together. Then, with as much dignity as I could muster, I began to walk back up the steps, moving slowly but with my head held high. I reached the top and continued my journey down the strip still feeling my body tingling with embarrassment. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have been strutting. I shouldn’t have been feeling so proud and pleased with myself. I should have known I was going to crash for being so…

“Hey, hey, Red,” I suddenly heard a voice call. “Hey, Red!” I looked away from my thoughts now and noticed a homeless man standing directly in front of me. He was wearing torn denim shorts and a stained brown plaid button door shirt that was hanging open to display his thin bony chest. His long hair was clumped together with dirt and his long goatee was braided to a point at his chin. “Oh, God,” I groaned inwardly as my body still ached from the fall, “what now?”
“This is for you, Red,” the man said as he suddenly turned and jumped onto a short concrete pillar. He sat on the pillar as the fountains of the Bellagio Hotel suddenly burst into action. Large streams of water suddenly sprayed up and danced in time to the music from Phantom of the Opera.

The homeless man didn’t miss a single movement or beat as he waved his hands around in time to the music. I was suddenly captivated by this man, drawn helplessly into his fantasy. As I watched his movements, I truly believed he was conducting a massive water orchestra. Every few seconds, the man turned around and smiled at me as I stood on the sidewalk. At the end of the performance, he jumped down off the pillar and bowed elegantly to me before taking his place again on the sidewalk with the rest of the people who were begging for handouts. I smiled then as I walked down the strip to the Mirage Hotel.

Once inside the Secret Garden, I stood before the cage of the white tigers. Two of the tigers were perched up on a low tree branch as they lazily passed away the sunny afternoon. One of the tigers was staring directly at me. I was so mesmerized by this creature, I couldn’t turn away. I felt so connected to this amazing animal as we continued to make direct contact. The whole universe existed within his round dark eyes. “It’s the hair,” I suddenly heard a voice say. I turned around to look at the trainer who was standing next to me. The young man smiled at me and said, “The tiger is fascinated with your red hair.” I smiled then and felt a light blush tinge my cheeks as I slowly pulled myself away from the front of the cage.

I walked over to the dolphin habitat then. While most people were crowded around the large tank where several trainers were working with three dolphins, I stood next to the second smaller tank, playing with two young dolphins. I watched in awe as the animals jumped out of the water and spun in the air. Several times, the dolphins pushed their gray shiny bodies up on the dock directly in front of me. “See,” a trainer whispered from behind me, “they like you. They’re showing off for you.”

I was actually deeply happy then. I smiled with my heart because now I truly understood the purpose of this day. Maybe I was never meant to get married and settle down. Maybe I was never meant to have a husband and family. Maybe the dog and the house were out of my reach. My life consists instead of jumping dolphins, mesmerizing white tigers, and a homeless man who conducts water symphonies for me. My life is pure and joyful. I am truly blessed.

The Randomness of My Life

I was reading back over my blogs the other day and released that there’s not really a theme. Was I supposed to have one? I noticed that most bloggers write about a certain thing–fashion, food, travel. But I can’t seem to focus. I can’t seem to choose one thing. I realized then that my blogs are just as random and unorganized as my life.

It made me think of a writing assignment I was giving a few years ago. What was the best year of my life in a 5-year span? I still don’t know how to answer that. Nothing actually stands out in my mind. I have never climbed Mount Everest, sailed around the world, or performed a heroic feat that saved another person’s life. Maybe I didn’t know what to write because I couldn’t think of a specific moment that turned my life around. I have never married. I don’t have children. I have never won the lottery. My life instead has been very different. It has been a day-to-day process. It has been a continuous unfolding of insight and understanding. I see my life as being an endless progression of trial and error.

Maybe I am trying too hard. Maybe I am overthinking the question. Maybe I should think about the happy moments of my life. Maybe I should think of the times that have made me feel alive and joyful to be in this world. I think of my miraculous moments. I have seen angels and other visions. I have helped people heal through massage and energy work. I have traveled extensively around the world. I have gone to several different schools and graduated with honors. I have taught in several different schools and helped others graduate with honors. I have waded in the oceans. I have gazed at mountains shining purple in the sunlight. I have received hugs from family and friends. I have experienced painful breakups of relationships. I have watched friends and family suffer and pass through my life no matter how hard I tried to hold onto them. I have read great books that showed me a different way of life. I have seen great movies that have inspired emotions deep within me. I have listened to amazing music that moves my soul in the same way it moves my feet. I have screamed for victory at sporting events. I have competed in the race of life for an attainable victory. I have tried to be kind, though I know I don’t always succeed when I am tired or stressed. I have taken beautiful photographs and have become frustrated when others don’t see the amazing things that I do. I have been strong at times and shown amazing courageous. I have been shy at other moments and cowered away from perceived threats. I have held babies. I have watered plants. I have cared for pets. I have treasured objects that would have no value to anyone else. I have lived life to the very brink of its existence. I have slept and being lazy on warm summer days. I have eaten great food and then worried about my weight. I have exercised and loved my body. I have hated my body and every one of its flaws has left me depressed and feeling unlovable. I have moments when I have doubted God’s existence. There were days when I have doubted my own existence. There are times when I have been a great believer just because I saw a sunrise or a drop of rain. I have great faith that won’t diminish even on days of sadness. I have great sadness that can sometimes diminish my faith. I have had a life filled with many years of great joy and tremendous sadness. I have had many years that I want to live again and others I would wish to erase from my memory.

So to answer what is the best year of my life, what can I say? Maybe I haven’t lived enough. Maybe I have lived too much. I can’t concentrate on one idea. My life is swirling in front of my eyes as if I am about to pass over into a new existence. When I finally do pass over into a new existence, will I look back on the best year of my life? Will I know then when the best time of my life had been? No, I will only know that I had a life…

Veterans’ Day 2013

My plane had landed at the Denver Airport thirty minutes late. As soon as I was able to disembark, I had to ran through the terminal corridors to gate 29 to catch my plane back to Palm Springs. Arriving fifteen minutes before boarding time, the gate is crowded except for one random empty chair at the end of the 6-chair handicapped row.

I refuse to take the seat. I squat down by a side wall as I glare angrily at a young twenty-something-year-old man who is lounging back in the last seat of the handicap chairs. He is wearing boots, jeans, and a black T-shirt. He is listening to music through headphones. He remains in the chair even when two elderly women, one on crutches, walk into the waiting area.

Finally, after several minutes, the Frontier Airlines counter clerk approaches the man. “Sir?! Sir, can you please move!? These women need the handicap seats!”

The man just looks up at the airline employee for a moment before placing both hands on the arms of the chair and pulling himself to his feet. A horrified expression covers the counter clerk’s face and the whole busy gate suddenly falls quiet as the man begins to move his body away from the chair. He walks across the room with his back in an unusual, extreme twist to the left that rotates his spine. The contortion pulls his left hip higher than his right and scrunches up the right side of his body. His body is almost bent double to his right side. With his right leg shorter than his left, he limps awkwardly and sways from side to side as he moves to stand in the center of the room, waiting to get on the plane.

I burn with shame as other people uncomfortably shuffle, turning their attention away from the young man as the counter clerk walks up to him to offer her apologies. He just nods his head and waves her away with a slight tense smile. The two elderly women slowly take the handicap seats and the noise level returns to normal. The moment eases, the tension relaxes, but those of us waiting by the gate have been changed. Lesson learned. You can never know how deeply another person has been hurt or how deep their suffering goes. Practice kindness….

My Amazing Journey

Two years ago, I was in a classroom with 24 students discussing goals, challenges, and life in general. College Prep is my favorite class to teach. Every semester, I have the opportunity to guide anxious new college students on a new direction in their lives. In this class, I have heard many amazing stories that make up the lives of these hopeful, eager adults. The students talk about overcoming addictions, illnesses, abandonment, alienation, and violence. The experience is life changing for all of us.

One day, some of the students asked me to tell my story. I was hesitant at first. As the teacher for this course, how much information should I reveal? Would it be appropriate for me to show any vulnerability? Could I talk objectively about my life in a professional, positive manner? Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe my story can help other people.

With a deep breath, I began. When I was a child I had a horrible speech impediment, which was so bad my first grade teacher called my mother and told her I was “retarded.” The teacher demanded that I be immediately removed from the classroom. My mother refused. I was then challenged with intense psychological and intellectual exams. My mother was venerated when she was told I scored close to the genius level. When I returned to my first grade class my shocked teacher decided that I just must be lazy. With this in mind, she would hit me for every word I mispronounced.

The abuse continued at home as well. My father agreed with my teacher’s assessment and method of discipline. At home, I was verbally and physically punished for every clumsy word and movement. The experience left me mute for years. Not a single word would I speak to anyone, except my mother. After a year of speech therapy and a lifetime of experiences, I slowly began to regain my voice. Today, I am a teacher and public speaker.

At the end of my story, my students were quiet for a moment as they assimilated the details of my story. Then, from the back of the room, one of the students raised her hand and asked this question: “Then how come you’re always so happy? You went through all that and yet you’re always here smiling.” She sincerely and anxiously asked me, “How do you do that? How do you get to that level?”

Before I could think about it, this word came out of my mouth, “Faith.” The word even stunned me for a moment. Then I continued, “I just always had faith that life would get better.”

As the class ended and the students filed out of the room, I was shocked to hear some of them say that my story was inspirational. What?!? I had never thought of it that way. It was just my life. Me? Inspiring? No.

I then asked myself this question: “Who is the most inspiring person I know?” I immediately thought about my mother. My mother was a small, delicate, graceful woman. She was barely five feet tall, 90 pounds, with dark hair and brilliant green eyes. She was a tender, passionate daydreamer too sensitive for this world. She would spend the majority of her life bravely battling depression and forty years of domestic abuse.

That night, I began to read all of the journals I had kept over the years. My main focus was the journey my mother and I had taken together through America. We had set a goal to drive through every state. It was an amazing experience as we explored together the golden expanse of the country and our own lives. Could this be inspirational?

Slowly a book idea developed. The book would detail our journey. There would be three parts. The first part would focus on the abuse my mother and I experienced. The second part would be our adventurous tour of America as we searched for peace and tranquility. The last part would present my mother’s diagnosis and subsequent death. I would lose my mother to complications of colon cancer. This shared experience of death was as bonding for us as our journey through abuse and salvation. Death was another part of our journey together.

I completed the manuscript for The Sweetness of Life in August of 2013. The book was published in March, 2014, by Balboa Press.

My mother always used to say to me, “My life would make a great book.” I believe my mother still traveled with me as I wrote and published this book. It has been another one of our great adventures.

So, now, here it is. Our story. The Sweetness of Life—one more stop on an amazing journey that has more adventures to come.