Our trip to Atlanta was glorious. For so many years of sobriety I haven't really believed it possible to travel without smoking, drinking or kissing random strangers on public transportation. But 1 plane ride, 1 Ferris wheel, 1 trolley, 5 skate parks, 1 art museum, 1 Waffle House Museum, 1 aquarium, 2 old and wonderful friends, dozens of street artists & street musicians, 1 dream poet with a typewriter under a bridge who wrote me a poem about nightmares and 1 ten hour car ride with 4 kids proved otherwise.
I felt the traveling flame reignite and right now I am trying to keep it lit like when I cupped my hands around a match on windy streets of New York City desperate for a cigarette.
The morning after leading a Life in 10 Minutes workshop in the living room of my friend's niece in a storybook cottage in Cabbage Town, Atlanta with a handful of her friends from around the city, I wrote in my journal, I want to do a living room tour of the USA. Nowhere do I feel such an immediate connection, do we unzip our skin and deep dive so far beneath the surface so fast as in a writing workshop where everyone lays themselves bare on the page 10 minutes at a time. My mom traveled all over the country selling her art with me. It's like there's a blueprint stamped into my DNA.
This idea makes my heart pound and my cheeks pink like a crush, like a balloon released with a message to the sky or a bottle in the sea with no way of knowing where it might land. But getting on the road and then coming back home as an adult, as a whole and sober person, as a mother and a wife and writer presented that part of me to me.
Before we went to Atlanta I spent 3 days in a yurt on a mountain top with 5 other women. I slept, read, ate and wandered through the tangled, glorious chaos of nature when I wanted to. Although I create plenty of tangled chaos myself, in the woods is the only place I truly love it, where it feels just right, where I am able to find order in no discernible order at all. The roosters crowed around the clock and the goats hollered like angry old men and I reclaimed my place in the universe, recalibrating, resetting again.