Shifting Sands

Written in January 2016

It’s been nearly two months since we high-tailed it out of Truckee to beat an impending winter storm. In that time we’ve visited with friends and family in Monterey, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Malibu, Los Angeles, Ramona, and Palm Desert. We met new friends in places like Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, Slab City, CA, and Las Cruces, NM. And we’re building a network here in Austin, though we’ve only lived here for just over two weeks. Everywhere we’ve gone, we’ve found great people. But am I one of them? Am I not too selfish and confused to fit in with this crowd? How do I escape this constant anxiety?

The sand takes lines unknown. –D.H. Lawrence

My personal sands are shifting a lot lately. Some days winds are steady and the sails are full. Others feel as though life itself has been suspended. Am I still dreaming? Is this reality? And what, in my own sort of personal truth, really is reality anyway?

I chose this path for a very simple reason: I believe my brother possesses a musical talent that should be shared with the world, and I was afraid that, so long as he remained comfortable in Truckee, his opportunity to share this talent would never materialize. So, ignoring the limitations of my own financial situation and my fears pertaining to how we might actually be able to co-exist, we fused our souls in this great adventure.

At times, I lamented the amount of work that was required to simply get the RV ready for the journey. In other moments, I worried how our present choices may negatively impact our future. Now, finally here in Austin for more than two weeks, and with a place to stay for the long-term, I still feel very anxious.

That may be because we’ve elected to invest time into building an RV pad for ourselves, rather than spending a bit extra on an existing facility. Sure, we may save money in the long run. And sure, there will certainly be a moment in the future when I can look back on myself and laugh about the anxiety in whose grips I now feel firmly grasped.

But Wait…Forward Only, And NOW!

Affirmations. I’m still young. I’m still healthy. I have a roof over my head, useful possessions to my name, and the ability to be gainfully employed once again in the near future. This art of being a writer, although envied by many I’ve talked to, often, at least to me, feels quite unenviable. There may be no greater feeling, as a writer, than sitting down with no definitive subject upon which the focus must remain. There is great freedom in the ability to sit, pen in hand, without client or editor breathing down your neck (indeed, without one’s duality breathing down one’s own neck as well). How wonderful to be free to write about anything or nothing. And to feel zero anxiety either way? It simply would not matter!

The blank canvas tempts the artist so. But the artist sort through passion, dreams, and visions to pick a singular subject upon which to focus their next work. The imagination runs wild. But, I suppose, such is a natural occurrence when it has been substantially bottled up for so long. The reins, the reins! Where are the reins?! Oh no! More creative thoughts spilling out unbridled. Off into the ethers you go! I wish for your joyous return someday, hopefully not too far down the line.

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