SEPTEMBER SURRENDER: DAY NINE
WHAT I’M LETTING GO
There’s a placid lake before me. No wind disrupting it. I kayaked on it today. I didn’t bring anything with me. If I fell in the lake, there would have been no one around to notice. That did go through my head but I was so transfixed on the beauty around me that I didn’t even care. “Sweet Caroline” played in the distance, bringing a smile to my face. I had forgotten my little notebook, but was making mental notes of story plotlines that could involve a kayaking trip on a lake. I thought about what it would be like to be stoned while out there, and frankly it didn’t appeal to me that much this time around.
Often times I’d do my everyday tasks after a couple of puffs. It was just common practice. It just made everything better. I knew it was getting to be a problem when I was doing laundry and somehow missed taking half my sheets out of the washer, even after drying and folding the rest of my clothes. It was a complete dumbass moment on my part and more than likely wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t stoned.
Now, being here, enjoying the quiet and clarity the country is bringing me, it feels even less necessary to return to greening out, even long after this challenge has completed. I say I want to be done with it all the time but run back again and again. I think this time what I need to let go is feeling like I’m enhancing an experience by being stoned. I’m not. I’m not sure what it’s doing for me, but at this point, it’s nothing worth holding onto.
I still bought today’s snacks like a stoner. Or a pregnant woman. So a little bit of that life will still remain no matter what.
WHAT I’VE DISCOVERED
I’ve stayed at a bunch of Airbnbs over the years. Many have been great. Others leave much to be desired. One was a castle in upstate New York that had swamp water coming out of the shower. There was an old Victorian house in Cape May that (apparently) smelled like mildew. But this place I’m currently in is just extraordinary. It would be a perfect one-person home for myself and the cat, who finally emerged from under the bed long enough to actually explore. It’s got everything I need, including a spectacular porch view of the lake, a hammock, and a fire pit. There’s nothing like feeling like someone else’s home is your home, at least for a few days.
It dawned on me today that this could be my life if I keep playing my cards right. I’m keeping the past where it belongs and focusing on a clear future for me and my loved ones. Why shouldn’t I have a beautiful lakeside cabin where I can just write and hang out all day? Where I’m not indebted to a corporation but instead make deals about my writing? It’s so entirely possible and I feel just on the cusp of it all the time. Perhaps I’m creating it as we speak. There just needs to be a lot more work to be done on my part in order to get there. The solitude isn’t a bad thing either. Maybe I don’t need anyone on this journey with me. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot more. It could very well be a reality. It’s one now, after all.
WHAT I HOPE TO FIND
I woke up at 5:00AM when I didn’t mean to. I saw the lake with the early morning mountain mist grazing the water’s surface. Then I fell asleep on the couch for another few hours. Again, didn’t mean to. But time is a little different when you’re on vacation. Someone came to me in my dream who I hadn’t seen in a long while. It felt real and plausible until I woke up. Usually when I’d have a dream in this manner, it’d take me through the rest of the day, and it’d be all I think about until I go back to sleep.
While it felt nice at the time, I hope that what I think about with a clear mind is something that could actually come to me in the near future. I don’t really want to deal with the impossible anymore. Just whatever is based in reality. I don’t need anything driven by emotion, just what’s really here and waiting for me. It’s closer than I think. I’ve got one shot left it feels like. No need to throw it away on what’s just not worth it.
balanced & fair 