Stuck in Traffic

One thing that you should know about me, is that I am "navigationally challenged". I am a traditionalist when I drive, and straying from my known means of passage gets me a bit flustered. Actually, it makes me panic. Cold sweats, nausea, hot back . . . the works. I was once asked to drive to downtown Chicago for work, and it was like being asked to swim with sharks, set myself on fire, or drive nails into my own kneecaps. I might add, all those options sounded better than driving to Chicago. My sister, being a very smart woman and problem solver, bought me a Garmin 2 years ago and I can honestly say that it was like being given my freedom. While I can't say that I am now wildly spontaneous, it does give me some sense of power to go off in uncharted territory more than I ever would have. My husband on the other hand is a human compass. He could find his way out of Siberia after being dropped in blindfolded under the cloak of darkness, severely malnourished, with a pack of ninjas trying to prevent his escape. It could happen . . . I hear there are a lot of ninja's in Siberia these days . . . hanging around in packs . . . probably at Starbucks. But I digress, my point here is that driving somewhere new and alone for me is usually a stressful experience.

This week I needed to drive to Vernon County and take my mom to her first surgical follow-up appointment (which went very well by the way!). My usual route north along Highway 14 has a serious detour this summer, so I opted to take a different course. I plugged in my trusty Garmin and set off on my adventure. The day was hazy and there were frequent downpours along the way. Then a funny thing started to happen, my Garmin continued to re-route me right back to Highway 14! I'm not familiar enough with this new route to simply ignore my navigator, and I could feel myself getting more and more anxious with every mile. My husband can attest to this as I called him several times asking "Do I really turn here?!? What's wrong with this thing!?!" . . . he reminded me that I could always read a map. Funny.

It struck me how much this parallels other life journeys. The "easy" path is always the one we are the most familiar with, even if it isn't the best route, takes longer, is full of potholes, detours, and delays. While there might not be a Garmin trying to pull us back to our old comfortable traffic pattern, it is pretty easy to return to a well worn trail. My mom is going to experience this now as she is officially a "non-smoker" after 50 years!

I stuck to my guns, swallowed hard, and kept pressing on down the highway, reminding myself that I would not actually fall off the face of the earth. Then I started to relax. Then I started to look beyond the road signs and see the most beautiful farms you could ever hope to see on a Wisconsin skyline. Pristine whitewashed barn doors. Time weathered silos against the misty corn fields. Rows of round hay bales, lined up and ready to be spun into gold. I came upon the windmills in Montfort, and they turned silently in the fog like ghosts in the sky. I could feel my pulse start to slow down, I turned on the radio, and enjoyed the rest of the drive.

I ended up at my destination, the rain stopped, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. It was kind of like a pat on the back for a job well done. A high five from above. A smile at the finish line.

I finally did drive myself to Chicago by the way, what a great city, I can't wait to do it again! Change is hard, but it's worth trying things another way sometimes. You just never know what you'll miss if you are stuck in the same old traffic jam.

Taking Flight

I don't think I'm unlike many women who walk through their busy lives, going about the daily business and wake up one day wondering . . . does this world intend more for me? My thirties have been difficult years, but I believe these are my teaching years, preparing me to come into my best self. It seems that I've spent endless hours in my own mind searching for the person that I'm meant to be. For years now, I've longed to live a more creative daily experience. Now is the time to be intentional about putting that into motion, and being the catalyst for my own change.

On July 1st, my beloved mother suffered an abdominal aortic aneurysm rupture. In a moment, life changed. She beat all the odds, and survived after a med-flight, surgery, and multiple days in intensive care. This beautiful woman, who I naively believed like a child would always be there, was nearly lost. Reality strikes again! As she is now recovering, we've had many conversations about things yet to accomplish. She's not done yet, and I know that I need to get moving too. It's time to become the person I want to be, instead of just wanting that to be true. I have a daughter of my own, and want to give her my best self, she deserves nothing less. My sister has been saying recently, you need to put your own oxygen mask on first. Great advice.

If my father is the body; the mechanics, the muscle, the frame, drive, the practical needs, ambition, life moving forward with the ground under my sturdy feet . . .

Then my mother must surely be the soul. The air in my lungs, the blood, the beat of my heart. Inspiration, music, prose. She is the warmth of the sun. She is the fresh smell of the earth. She is the light, the laughter, and the truth. She is the magnificent roar of angel wings in my ear. She is the golden thread of love that binds all things, knows all things, and sweetens my past, present, and future.

I spent the day yesterday celebrating my 10 year wedding anniversary at Sundara Spa. This is one of my favorite destinations, and always find a day of relaxation and meditation tremendously healing. I am fortunate to be married to a man who can appreciate this as well. I picked up a copy of Artful Blogging to read while lounging, and was inspired by the artist who have already taken this leap of art faith. I thought that this might be a good forum for me too, documenting the journey I'm on and keep me moving in the right direction. Fasten your seat belts, engines are now engaged . . .