Day 600: I Had No Idea

When I started on this journey 600 days ago, I envisioned following temperatures in the low 70s up and down the East Coast, lots of boondocking by the water, cooking on the Coleman stove set on a rock in the woods, and hitting as many pagan and music festivals as possible. Well, I have had days in the 40s with nights in the teens and days in the 90s and nights in the 80s. I can think of half a dozen nights I boondocked beside the water, have never even opened the box the stove is in, and made it to a one-day pagan festival and a two-night folk music festival featuring local artists. 

I didn’t expect the expense of all the mechanical problems, to go five days without a shower, or to be able to leave dirty dishes in the sink overnight. I didn’t think it was possible to love living on Karma as much as I do. It is love that is gushy and giddy, filling this space with joy and pride pretty much all the time I’m aboard. My heart always jumps when I come out of a store and see her in the parking lot. It feels as if she is vibrating at my frequency as she reflects me back to myself. We are both elders and happy to still be rolling along.   

I did not expect the outpouring of kindness, assistance, support, generosity, and love I have been given during these 600 days — mostly from people I’d never met, some who have become friends. Mile after mile, the scenery on the back roads filled me with awe and I’d talk to trees, send love up mountains, and praise the clouds. I can close my eyes and remember places and people I never photographed but who have left an impression on me. 

I was hoping to dig down to find the person I once was, and she emerged last spring. About 100 days ago, I spoke the magickal name I had been given to the moon.    

It’s been a spell since I last wrote. Some of that time I was sick from my Covid booster, sleeping for two days and nights. Some time was spent crafting, reading, lazing. Then someone I love went into the ICU, and I’ve been distracted by that. Nights were spent writing for Pagan Pages. It’s been a blessing that the paths through these ten acres invite walking meditations, provide grounding, and offer a private space to honor the moon overhead. 

Plans are loosely forming for the next month, with a tiny home show in Clearwater and a skoolie swarm in Melrose, then a visit to a friend in Cassadaga before slowly beginning to head north.

I hope you’ll come with me.