Miles and I pulled out of Meadowlark Resort last night, just before seven. I had my old and well-loved “Surfacing” album from Sarah McLachlan providing a soundtrack to a sudden and unforeseen upsurge of melancholy. I wept my way through the first hour, tossed my cookies in a gas station bathroom near Wausau, and then practiced a little emotional stability. I know, I know…me and my glamorous life. I don’t mean to make you all feel so uninteresting in your own lives, but ah! Such is the price of greatness!
I thoroughly enjoyed my morning routine there. The bed was slightly less than comfortable, so I wasn’t good for sleep much beyond four. I’d pad out to the living room in my unitard and complete an hour of yoga before jumping in the shower. With the coffee brewing and my banana bread oatmeal bubbling in the microwave, I would open my laptop and just write. It was a quiet, reflective time that I cherished. I watched every sunrise over the lake and felt a keen connection to the life and breath of Mother Earth. Words seemed to flow from me ungoverned by daily complication, and I caught a glimpse of Heaven.
There is a genius to be found in the simple. There is a wisdom to be found when the thinking stops. After nine months of feeling unsure of where to call “home”, I found it in myself this week. I only wish my “hello” wasn’t so blurry in the backdrop of “goodbye”.