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The French Broad River in Asheville, North Carolina |
My somewhat catastrophic and rather humorous first foray as a Camping Virgin in North Carolina was followed by two blissful weeks visiting my best friend, Patti Edmon, her husband, Jim, and their amazing now-all-grown-up children, Dylan and Alice, in Lexington, Kentucky.
To sit in our pjs and savor our morning coffee (as we often did when we were younger, dating back some 47 years ago) and to allow the conversation to wander and to deepen, layer upon layer, without any constraint of time, was an undeniable gift. But then, it seems that these windows of time have always opened magically for Patti and I, whenever we most needed them. This was certainly one of them for me as I continued to ponder the meaning of place, home, and family.
Patti and Jim, who are both artists, took me to their place on the lake for several days, where we floated for hours, eye-level with the clear, warm water, gazing at the shale cliffs and wildlife. I felt like I was in a huge flotation tank as little by little my psyche relaxed and became one with the body of the lake, the trees, the hawks wheeling above.
To share this special place with them will forever be one of my favorite memories. And, of course, to say 'goodbye' to Patti and her family was just not an option. Never was, never will be. They are just so dear to me!
* * *
Lexington, where I lived for a decade, was a place of healing for me back when my daughter, Marina, was small and we moved from Southern California to the Bell Court area to be near Jim and Patti. It became a center for many firm friendships that have endured over twenty years.
The very talented fabric artist and outdoorswoman Annie L'Esperance and her daughter, Claire (who now has Ellie, a beautiful daughter of her own) were among the first people we met in the neighborhood. My daughter and Claire became besties the moment they met and continue to enjoy a beautiful friendship, even from afar. Before I left, Annie gifted me with a T-shirt saying, "Keep it Simple," which has become my mantra everything time I set up camp. It has already served me well.
Mikal Shafer and her daughter, Hannah, who walked hand-in-hand with Marina on her first day of Kindergarten, and instantly became a part of our family, continue to be an beloved part of our extended lives. Mikal is also an amazing artist in many media, including quilting, and a spiritual leader who taught me long ago, by her excellent example, the value of being an active part of a community.
And then there were my adopted children, Meadow, Tracy and Melissa and Alison . . . a whole chapter in itself. Leaving Lexington again brought up a lot of memories of my extraordinary life here and I must say that my heart was torn. Should I go or should I stay?
* * *
What was I doing and where was I going? I really did not have a clue other than having been called on this journey. Perhaps it was a lesson in being present and allowing things to unfold. Perhaps it was to find myself again after years of devoting myself to the needs of others. Or perhaps it was to be reminded that it is who we love, not where we live, that is most important.
My dear zen sister and nature lover Ann Bowe, who, like Mikal, is a garden artist, horticultural expert (and recently an internet photographer of note) offered something recently that I found very poignant. "When we travel," she said, "we discover pieces of ourselves that we didn't know were there. All the usual energetic things that are part of our ordinary lives are absent, and we are forced back to the essence of who we are." She felt that my travels were a kind of mental and spiritual cleanse, an opportunity to shed old habits and thought processes.
I think she may be right. I feel I am being constantly tested on this trip and forced to really pay attention to every detail, to revise my thinking, upside-down and inside-out, of any idea I may have had of what should be--or could be.
To let go of what no longer serves us, and to treasure those things that are nurturing and spiritually nutritious is a kind of wisdom that only comes at the end of a long road and many hardships for some, like me. But around every corner, at every turn, no matter how difficult things are or become, I have found magic and truth and love and beauty beyond measure.
In the end, something awaited. I didn't know exactly what, but I knew that it would have its own sacred story. It was time to travel on.
What an amazing life this is and how blessed I am to be a Zen Gypsy now and to be allowed to immerse myself in what my mentor/mother/friend Dr. Annemarie Roeper always called, "The Mystery."
Karen
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