To awaken alone...

“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasant sensations in the world. You are surrounded by adventure. You have no idea of what is in store for you, but you will, if you are wise and know the art of travel, let yourself go on the stream of the unknown and accept whatever comes in the spirit in which the gods may offer it.” Freya Stark – The Journey’s Echo (found in Without Reservations by Alice Steinbach)

stairway to my loftThere’s something fantastic and magical about beginning with another author’s words. It’s almost like stepping into their shoes and retracing their footsteps—only different. I remember when I copied those words in 2008 as I prepared to go on my first trip to Paris. I’d never awoken in a strange land alone. Sure I’d been on business trips to Williston, North Dakota and Kansas City, Kansas; definitely strange in their own right. But there was something different about this… knowing I would be waking up in a foreign land with no one but myself to rely upon.

            I am bolstered by the courage of others who’ve gone before me. The desert fathers and mothers. My own ancestors. Authors and explorers like Anne Morrow Lindbergh (A Gift from the Sea) and Elizabeth Gilbert with Eat, Pray, Love. And today as I write this, I’ve been told, and am coming to understand, that my adventures are bolstering others in my wake. How did that come to be? When did I become the brave one? The adventuresome one?

cicra 1960            It’s funny to think about considering the stories of my childhood. “Kayce’s our shy girl. She doesn’t talk much.” I can hear my mother speaking as though I were still 6 years old. I say “six,” because when I was five anything still seemed possible. Somewhere between Mrs. Peck’s magical kindergarten and the time I wet my panties in my first grade classroom, the brave girl seemed to disappear. The girl who scuffed her patent leather shoes and skipped around the block with arms swinging freely got tucked away.

            I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different, had I chosen to keep skipping and following the music of my own heart instead of kowtowing to the convention of society. But that’s really a moot point now, isn’t it? All we really have is today and today I sit surrounded by journals filled with stories—My stories—of adventure from places like Paris, Cairo, Dublin, and Spain.

circa 2013            I must confess that I am in awe of the pathway my life has taken. It has not been without intention, determination, or a whole bucket full of pain along the way. It is a surprising journey and it’s not. It took a long time to arrive and it came in the blink of an eye. I am grateful for every single solitary step of the way and I am accepting of that “which the gods may offer.”

            It’s never too late to buy that plane ticket or pack that bag or travel in your dreams to the places that call your heart.

What tugs your heart today? I invite you to slow down for five minutes and get really quiet. Listen. Let your heart skip and play. Pay attention. Where are your footsteps leading?