Where did that guy go?

Wellington, New Zealand

I must confess, I have been pretty down for pretty much all of this trip so far. I definitely don't want to be feeling this way, and I don't want to be writing about it, but it seems if I'm not then I'm not writing about anything.

I expected to go through a recovery period. My last month in Sydney was emotionally and physically gruelling. I had hoped to make a triumphant exit, bursting with love and joy and excitement, feeling transformed, courageous, powerful, ready. Instead I felt (and continue to feel) exhausted, torn down, humiliated, stripped back to the cowering animal inside, frustrated, incapable, not ready at all. I try to focus on the multitude of tasks and to-dos I was able to plan and execute in that final month; cancellations, redirects, appointments, closure. I can say there were moments where I was impressed with myself, in some ways it was the most effectively run, well-scheduled, prolific month in recent memory. But everywhere, all that echoed in my eyes and ears and heart were the things I was failing to do. And some on a grand and public scale.

At the same time I felt isolated from the people I most wanted to contact, to hold. Like an invisible ice wall was thickening around me. I wondered why no one could see what was going on with me, why it was all just amusing or annoying. And yes this is more a feeling truth than a logical truth (I swear I'll get to it). I know it is me, that much of why I felt this way is because I have gone quite deaf and blind and numb to others, to everything. I did not want to fall into this hole; though I have considered the possibility it is what I had to do next.

It feels like this: that two years ago, with separation and then divorce, I burst into flames and fell into the cave. Which had to happen, in the sense that it was the only way for me to be true and real with myself. And I recovered, if this can be said, well, and in a very me way. I thought a lot, felt a lot, talked to my closest friends a lot. A lot. And eventually saw what needed to be seen, and put out the fire, and just over a year ago I started to rise. For the last year I have felt more me, more excited about the possibilities than I can ever remember feeling. And since then this feeling has been rapidly accelerating, bringing new perspectives on the nature of time and reality, truth, love, pain; and amazing planet collisions with memory, beyond literal experiential memory, but before memory almost, a deep core sense of remembering myself. And I fucking loved it. And I felt like I knew what I needed to do. And I answered the call, and set into motion the next set of transformations. I got into shape, I reconnected to my creative self, I started reading again and exposing myself to new ideas. I resigned from my job in Sydney, made plans for this trip, made plans to live a life that resonated with passion and my truth. And while I can admit that I may not have really needed to leave my job and loved ones and my home really, it feels equally true that this is the way I was to do it.

I think I left an untended ember smoldering in my shoe. And in the last month it has caught fire. And I wonder what it is...

I am also blessed to be surrounded (in spirit is almost as good as in body) by some amazing hearts. A woman I knew in high school, recently found on Facebook (love it, loathe it), her first words to me since then in response to my first blog entry, a surprisingly tender slap in the face, "Why so serious?" And recently, in the words of a loved one going through her own exhausting awakening, I heard what has been nearby to the tip of my own tongue, that maybe I too am just a little bit over this whole growing and healing thing for the moment.

Before I embarked on this trip, as I stepped up to the plate I pointed to the fence, signalling a home run much to the delight of the crowd (me), I defined this trip as a spiritual journey, of personal revelation. I would journal my feelings, keep a blog, finish my very personal novel, read all these books filled with mind-blowing ideas. And I look at the books I brought with me, and no wonder I am so miserable. I have given myself nowhere to go but the black hole. I am trying to Eat Pray Love the fuck out of this trip, when maybe what I really need right now is just to simply goddamn eat!