My Road

Forgive me Cormac McCarthy. I loved

Some days I liken my journey to Cormac McCarthy’s dystopian opus, The Road. I’ll be walking along and stumble on a trove of undiscovered food in some cellar. I’ll feast like royalty and continue on my way feeling lucky and confident in my route.

Then there are days when the gloom is impenetrable.

I lost a day this week. I returned from visiting Sarah in NYC Wednesday afternoon. On Thursday (the lost day) I sat at my computer for hours working on a website, for a side-project.

Didn’t walk. Didn’t write. Ate lunch around 11.

Normally I don’t eat anything until early afternoon. I know. That runs contrary to the “eat a good breakfast” contingent but there is another contingent that argues in favor of fasting until noon. The point is, I broke my routine.

In the course of the afternoon and evening, I drank a bit. Not too much. And I got high. Not too high. I knew I was self-medicating. I knew it wouldn’t help.

This morning I woke up scared I wasn’t going to take care of my “self.” Scared I’d lose another day.

This morning, without a plan I walked out my door, “crawling like snail, hesitantly…” not sure if I was going to walk a hundred steps to Starbucks and plant myself there. Or go farther.

I went further and walked into Adams Morgan, to Tryst. I rewrote my essay Mindful Tips to Deal With an Unmindful President. I’ll update everyone as soon as I know where it will appear.

And now I’m writing this. I feel like I’m back on track.

I am not sure at what point my routine became such an important part of my journey. I suspect it has to do with my focus on mindfulness and developing new, healthful habits. The reciprocal of that commitment is breaking bad habits.

At times, my journey feels exhausting and I just want to take a break. I think yesterday was one of those days. Leaving New York, I was overwhelmed by Sarah’s sadness and simple desire that we magically return to what was normal. It broke my heart a little and I just wanted to cocoon.

But that was yesterday. I’m still sad. But I’m back on the road wondering what I will discover this week.

Reading All The Light We Cannot See, helps me find perspective. As I connected to the pain of life during wartime, physical, emotional, and spiritual, I’m inspired to keep on my path. It is the power of the message, fair, or unfair as it may be, for survivors, “life goes on.”

Despite the adversities, despite everything, I tell myself, I just have to keep on keepin’ on.

P.S. A very short clip today.

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