Gallivanting, Pt. 1

As suggested to me by several people, I'm going to attempt to document some of the tales from my cross-country drives (2 and counting!). This first one was my move to Walla Walla, and the trip was with my mom.

Part 1: Florida to Arkansas

In typical fashion, my plan for driving cross-country was, and I quote, "Well, I'll be in Tallahassee and then we'll just drive this way *diagonal motion* to get to Boise. And I like Denver, so we'll stop there too." My Dad sat me down and helped me plan a route, apparently "we'll just go like this" isn't a satisfactory plan of action.

The first stop after Orlando was Tallahassee to see my lovely sister-from-the-same-mister. During this particular time, I-10 was under construction and a lane was closed. This business of having only one lane open was a theme for the trip, and I think we found one in every state we had the pleasure of driving through.

Next stop, somewhere in Arkansas. With the time frame we'd given ourselves, the goal was to drive as far as possible, preferably near Little Rock. We sauntered through the mountainous Florida Panhandle and I entered new territory: Alabama. It's an interesting state, a combination of Southern hospitality and "GTFO." Highlights include:

The confusion regarding a certain road we took from Birmingham to Memphis. Said road was marked on all maps as state road 70-whatever, but the signage in Alabama proclaimed Interstate 22. Not being sure of what this was, we did some sleuthing to discover that the road  is not currently an interstate but will be once it meets certain guidelines (Wikipedia). This doesn't matter in Alabama where you are on I-22, dammit. In Mississippi, signs along the road lamented, "Future home of the I-22 Corridor," but didn't seem to challenge the federal government.

Did I mention the I-22 signs in Alabama were also massive?

The towns of Guin, Gu-Win, Twin, Glen Allen, and Brilliant. In case you were wondering, Guin and Gu-Win are right next to each other and pronounced the same way.

We stopped at Corky's BBQ in Memphis for dry rub Memphis BBQ. It. Was. Amazing. Seriously, those ribs are one of the best things I've eaten, period. We got them to-go, parked at a gas station, rolled down the windows, and began to chow down.

Suddenly, cicada. This beast came flying in, caused a ruckus, and then ended up near the bottom of my door. I opened the door to shoo it out and, satisfied once I couldn't hear anything, shut the door and rolled up the windows, ready to enjoy my ribs in peace. My mom said she thought it was still in the car, but we couldn't hear anything and the topic was left at that.

The following morning we walked out to the car to see a large cicada dying in my seat. Not only was my mom right (as she often is), but I was worried I had suffocated the cicada by sitting on it. The cicada episode is one of the highlights of the trip, but I promise it only goes uphill from here.

Dinner is served.

The cicada that spent its final days near an Arkansas parking lot. RIP

Leap of Faith

"Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith."
 -Margaret Shepard

In addition to the trolling, cat videos, and Buzzfeed lists populating the Internet, one also has access to an immense array of inspirational quotes. The snippet above quickly became one of my favorites after I saw it on Pinterest last year and is one of the few I enjoy disseminating to the general public.

What I like about Margaret Shepard's quote is that it's not aggressive, manipulative, or belittling like many can become. It's simple without being condescending, hopeful without being stupid, and is pretty easy to visualize. The problem I have with a lot of these so-called inspirational quotes is that they almost seem to berate those of us not taking huge risks and living "extraordinary" lives. Yes, it's good to be motivated, and many of us probably need more than we receive, but there's a line between a pep talk and bullying to drive a point home.

There are so many reasons why people live their lives in ways that practically reduce risk to zero. There are reasons why it's easier to stay "stuck" in an uncomfortable place rather than venture out into the open in search of something more. There are reasons why it's safer to disconnect from your friends and family, the people around you, your self, than it is to take the chance of showing off who you are in that moment on that day. There are reasons why it's more convenient to stick with what is known instead of looking into the unknown and only being able to see your own reflection.

There are reasons that are valid, okay, and rooted deeply in survival. And heck, obviously you've had to survive to get to the point of reading this.

But sometimes one's present pain becomes greater than the threat of change.

And that's when you may have to take a leap. All the calculations in the world can't guarantee us anything in this life as life owes us nothing. Still, I have enough hope that there's good in the world, and that there's enough to cushion us where we land.

But we have to jump first.

That gets me to another aspect of the quote I like. It doesn't say that you always must be choosing risk and leaping off bridges to live a full life. Sometimes we have to jump, sometimes it's our only option, our only mode of getting from the stagnant to the overflowing. The leaps may be little, they may be large, they may be individual or communal. There is no quantification because you can't reduce a person to data, to numbers, to an algorithm. Our souls are more expansive than that.

Sometimes you have to make a leap.

Plot Twist!

Switching Washington's has been probably one of the weirdest experiences of mine to date. I ended up here because of a fateful visit last December where I was just entranced with the city and realized how much I just missed it and wanted to be back here (I grew up in the area). Things fell into place, and I left my barely-adopted state of Washington for the historic landscape of the DC region.

There's a quote I like, "When things in your life go wrong, shout, 'Plot twist!' and move on." While I'm not sure exactly what's meant by "wrong," I do appreciate the acknowledgement that life is funny like this. Things happen unexpectedly, change happens, time continues flowing, and the road through life contains as many blind curves and steep grades as the Pacific Coastal Highway.

I had the best drive of my life in Big Sur

I like to think of lives like narratives, that each of us has a unique life story that's held inside these frames of skin and bones. We can be the authors of our own lives, but that first means being willing to take responsibility and accept the risks that come from living. I've come to realize that I'm not who I thought I was or wanted to be, and letting go of these descriptors, self- or externally-imposed, is a challenge. You must be willing to accept the unknown, step into it, and let it be. When mystics speak of death to the self and desire, many are pointing to the process of letting go of what is not authentic, what is not really you, and in this process a truer, more authentic self is (re)born.

The times in life where things aren't working out as we'd hoped, we aren't who we thought, and life seems to be the Pacific Coastal Highway shrouded in fog are universal. I take comfort in knowing that the uncertainty and switchbacks aren't unique to just me, though that doesn't exactly remove the sting from shedding my old skin when it's time to grow. It's in this shedding when I have a chance to take ownership of the change and grow further into myself and the ground on which I stand. I shout, "Plot twist!" when I realize things aren't as expected, and then I do my best to let go of what-was and embrace what-is in the life story I'm writing. 

Cadillac Ranch in North Texas

 A monument to Route 66 which is pretty much I-40 now. Plot twist!

On the Move

Something I think people often underestimate about moving is how exhausting it is. Sure, it's exciting and new opportunities abound everywhere, but it also can be really tiring. This isn't to say it's impossible, should be avoided, or doesn't have its benefits, but rather to reach out to everyone else I know who's in this transition (or wants to be).

While I'm certainly not an expert on moving (see: Third Culture Kids, military brats), I did manage to have four addresses last year and have spent a whopping four days at my newest one in Seattle. Through this I've learned a lot about myself, who I thought I was vs. who I am, and how to cope with transition in healthy ways for me, including:

1. I don't really like moving.

Nope. I like having my possessions organized, room clean, and having each item in its correct space. I blame my enjoyment of interior design, but seriously, moving drives me a little bonkers. I was essentially living out of suitcases from early August until yesterday and did not anticipate how a dresser would help me feel more stable. I look at it this way, I'm a very aesthetically-driven (-minded?) person, and having my immediate environment in order allows me to have a stable physical space to operate out of.

It also just looks better, let's be honest, I like when things look good.

2. Moving isn't the only way to create excitement in my life.

While I've been moving away from overly rigid "black-and-white" thinking, I naturally go that direction since I tend to be a bit more of an "all or nothing" person. I actually enjoy that intensity, but I'm seeing how it can get me into situations where more nuances, more gray, is called for. I think of myself as an adventurous person and truly love exploring, and I'm seeing more clearly that a) my definition of what adventurous and exploratory needs to expand, b) it doesn't have to be you either settle down forever or keep moving, and c) there's something called traveling.

I don't know what the next few months, let along years, will hold, but I am slowly but surely quickly reaching a point where I don't want to move around constantly. There's something fabulous about being in a place where people know you and you know people. That takes time.

3. Everyone deals with moving differently.

Going with my tendency to explore my environment, I deal with moving by exploring my surroundings. Take a walk through the new neighborhood? Sure! Find a library where you can sit in the Quiet Room for multiple hours and shoot death glares at people who disturb the peace? Doing that right now! Find the grocery store(s)? Yes!

Everyone is different and copes with transition differently, but moving has made it clear to me that I find it important to understand where I am, and that part of how I understand a place is by using my senses. As someone who tends to rely heavily on her intuition, relying on a sensory experience is kind of invigorating.

4. Moving is difficult.

Now this isn't to say it's bad, I already wrote that once in here, but it is difficult, even when desired. You leave behind your family, friends, a life you know, and venture into a situation (or situations) where everything is new and unknown. It gets pretty overwhelming at times, but it gets better. Slowly but surely a place will be more comfortable, especially as you find places to be and meet people, but initially it's a huge jolt.

Tip: Saving up money to cover living expenses for several months makes it a LOT less stressful. I'm very thankful for the money I have saved because it allows me more breathing space and is one less thing on my mind. This isn't to say I'm spending money freely, but I space.

 

Here's a train just chillin' in the road. I made a U-turn out of impatience, drove in a big circle, and then cursed at the Seattle roads that I don't understand.

Space Needle with the skyline in the background.

I am being driven batty by the clouds (and massive amounts of change don't help), but there's no better feeling than when the sun peeks out. Also, Puget Sound is gorgeous.

 

I'm happy to not be living out of suitcases for the first time since August! Best $20 purchase yet on Craigslist.