Okefenokee Swamp

"Tannic Stew" is a wonderful metaphor for the Deep South.  Taken at Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge by Marty Maxwell, Creative Compositions, Inc.  marty@creative-comp.com

The Deep South is a place I haven't explored before.  In my mind, it was a backwards place where the heart of slavery existed and the mindsets were still Ante-Bellum.

But something changed for me and it started with place names - warm, deep, rich, moist, mysterious, place names: Okefenokee, Mississippi, Iuka, Okeechobee, Tallahassee, Chickasawhay, Yockanookan, Tallapoosa, Tombigbee, Alabama, Palatlakaha, Econlockhatchee.  The names reflect the place and are all names from the Indians* that lived there and understood the land.  And I realize now that the people who live there have also come to reflect the landscape: warm, richly-accented (to me), mysterious, and not without its dangers, be they undercurrents of racism or my own prejudices.

It's fascinating how names can reflect the landscape.  Go further North and the Indian place names are harsher, more full of consonants and sharp edges: Massachusetts, Narragansett, Connecticut.  And aren't the people of New England similar?  Still wonderful people, but the style is less expansive and more direct up North than down South.

There's probably a longer chapter on this waiting to be written - but for now, I am realizing that my earlier impressions of the Deep South were biased and short-sighted and I delighted in the Southern hospitality and rich, warm accents that I encountered while I spent time in Florida, Mississippi, and Georgia.  I want to go back.


* I'm not sure if the Native people prefer to be called "Native American" or "Indian," and probably they would prefer to be called "Cherokee" or "Seminole" but I don't have enough understanding to be that specific, so I'm going with the name of the Smithsonian Museum: Museum of the American Indian.  I welcome more information.

The Sun Never Says

"You are so lucky!" "People would give their right arm to do what you are doing!" "You are a very, very lucky girl!" These are common comments I get when I tell people about the trip that I am taking.  I don't care for these comments.  "Luck" is being born white in America.  "Luck" is winning the lottery.  My trip has very little to do with luck (except for the first reference to luck - but many of the people who tell me I'm lucky are also native-born white Americans, so in this situation it doesn't count).  My trip is about choices that I've made that have gotten me to this point in my life.  I could easily turn the tables and say, "You're so lucky!  You have a spouse and kids and a house and a job," much of which I would like to have.  But those are all choices and follow-thru on decisions made, it wasn't luck. When people attribute my trip to luck, I feel the choices I made to be where I am are minimized.  It glosses over the fear, the loneliness, the "oh shit where am I going to stay tonight?" the "I'm tired and I don't want to make one more decision but my dogs have to eat and I have go to the bathroom," and "what the hell am I going to do when I'm done?" issues.  Not to mention that I am working while I'm on this trip because I still need to earn money.   Speaking of money, "How can you afford to do this?" is a big one for people.  I think the assumption is that if they only had the money they would do a trip like mine.  I doubt that very much.  Money is the least of my challenges.  I'm not trying to hang on to my old life at the same time I'm creating a new life. It's pretty cheap to camp and eat spaghetti-o's.  And it's even cheaper to crash at a friend's house (fortunately I haven't run out of friends yet). The really hard part is the not knowing.  I have given up my apartment, my friends, the life I created, the knowing what will (in general) happen from one day to the next.  What I would NEVER give up for this trip is my right arm - and I hope no one else would either!  This trip for me is about making lemonade out of lemons.  I don't attribute it to being courageous at all - I just couldn't take the disappointments and the loss anymore without trying to do something different.  My cat died, my mother died, my apartment had mice and rats, my career wasn't taking off the way I wanted it to, I had no significant other.  I tried and I tried and I tried to change things and I couldn't.  I could, however, take me and my dogs on a trip to experience the country and to heal. Sometimes, people say to me, "I'm envious," or even, "I admire your bravery, I wish I had the courage."  Now that is honest, and it is what I think the other people are really saying.  I get it.  I've felt it before too, and still feel it more frequently than I would like.  It is certainly what I meant when I have attributed somebody else's situation to luck (unless they really did win something, in which case luck is appropriate, but I try not to use that word anymore if it isn't pure luck). Instead, I'm working on cultivating a new attitude: Genuinely wishing people well, being happy for what other people have, not comparing what I want or don't have to what they have. I'm not there all the time, because I'm human, but I'm working on it.   THE  SUN  NEVER  SAYS

Even

After

All this time

The sun never says to the earth,

"You owe

Me."

Look

What happens

With a love like that,

It lights the

Whole

Sky.                       ~Hafiz

 

Where I've Been

Clearly I'm not the best at blogging with any regularity.  I'd like to say that I'm going to change that, but I hate to make promises I can't keep...

Nevertheless, I am going to try to get back into it.  The orange line on the map shows my journey so far - well, my physical journey.  (The psychic one is hard to show with just a map and a highlighter.)

My Journey So Far

Anyway, I'm in Wawona in Yosemite National Park.  My friend, Becca, has arranged for me to stay in a cabin here and it's possible that I could stay through the winter.  I'm taking it one day at a time.  (By the way, the Rim Fire, aka the Yosemite Fire, is far away from us in this southwestern corner of the park and we are safe.)

Catching My Breath

It's been awhile since I've posted.   I've been enjoying my time and jumping into the computer calls for more focus then I've felt like doing. Still, I'm grateful for the emails and the Facebook replies, and I don't want to lose contact with you all.

I've got some future posts in my head - like how magical North Dakota was (yes, North Dakota!).  And I even found a little corner of Nebraska that was just beautiful.  Oh, and the nice people I met in the Black Hills of South Dakota.  And how Utah just took my breath away and touched my soul. 

But those will probably need to wait until early next week.  In about half an hour, I'm going camping with my friend Lynn and her boyfriend Dan.  I've known Lynn since elementary school, and when she offered up her place in Denver to stay on my sojourn I was happy to accept.  I was going to say: I'm not sure she knew what she was getting herself into.  But in fact, I think she did know.  She knows this area well and has told me it's a great place to explore a lot of the country from.  And that's just what I did last week when I went to Utah.  And next week I will take some forays into more of Colorado. 

And let me tell you, my little travel companions are very glad to have a place to stay for a bit.  They were getting mighty travel weary.  And quite frankly so was I.

So, I guess what this post mostly is, is a gratitude to Lynn for giving me a place to catch my breath.

On My Own for the First Time

I’m somewhere in Minnesota.  I’ve been working quite hard at avoiding Storm Achilles.  I seem to be mostly staying just a few hours ahead of it – literally.  Tried a scenic route today.  It was pretty for about the first hour.  The next 6 were tedious for me and Scottie and Maddie.

I spent my first night at a hotel two nights ago.  Motel 6 in Duluth.  It looked pretty rough – but the price was right ($43.99 a night before taxes)  and the dogs weren’t a problem.  Signed myself up for two nights.  But after the first night I had to get out of there.  My next door neighbors had at least two kids in there, two of the men got super drunk – maybe the woman too.  I called the front desk, they said they’d call the room.  The fighting spilled out into the hallway.  I called the front desk – Call the cops!  Already called.  10 minutes later – no cops and they drunk guy was trying to break into my room via the connecting door.  I called 911 – they weren’t that concerned.  I was!

Long story short, the cops finally came – they were nice and very gentle with the woman, the only adult left.  (“Do you know you have blood on your shirt?”).  And sweet and rather tragic to the kid(s).  (“Do you remember me?”  and “You didn’t finish your burger.”)

I checked out the next day.

Last night’s hotel was my favorite.  The Cliffdweller in Tofte, MN on the North Shore.  Right on Lake Superior and rate was $49 a night, plus an extra $10 for each dog.  That was fine.  It was a nice hotel and they had just replaced the carpet.  I slept to the sound of Lake Superior washing up against the shore.  Tonight’s is pricier than I wanted – but it came down from $99 a night to $74.  If it weren’t so friggin’ cold, I would camp.  But on my way here I saw three men ice fishing on a frozen lake!  Ack, where is spring?!

Tomorrow I should hit North Dakota.  But first I'm going to see the headwaters of the Mississippi River and then a native grass prairie. 

Magic

I started this post when I was in Chicago, about 2 weeks ago.  But I was too tired to finish it.  So let's pretend it's two weeks ago.  I'm overwhelmed and terrified.  In spite of careful packing, I have too much stuff, it's hard to get to, I can't imagine how I'm going to make this trip across the country and keep me and my two dogs safe and sound.  Packing the car and unpacking the car is taking me way too long.  And I want to just put down roots at Lou's and Beth's place because I'm scared and it feels safe and cozy at their place.  This is not part of the Grand Plan.

Remember my post about the Fool's Journey?  The Fool steps off the cliff, carefree and happy, with his little dog at his heels, certain all will be well.  Having taken that leap of faith, The Fool had better have some Magic, or he will fall!  And that is exactly what he encounters next. The Magician!  The Magician in the Rider-Waite tarot deck combines all 4 elements (pentacles, cups, swords, wands) to create magic. See how he's also pointing above and below, and the infinity sign on his head?  That's connection, above and below, and spiritual and all around.  The Magician is there to help him along - to connect to Spirit and ground to Earth. 

Well my magician (two actually) appeared too! See the picture below?  (Be sure to notice the two doggies, they are part of the alchemy.)

I sure needed a lot of help combining and managing and weeding out my stuff.  Thank the goddess and the universe for Beth and Lou, who helped me sort and pare and organize and pack.  And truly, it was a lot of magic that I desperately needed.  Beth was an amazing magician - taking the elements in hand (including me, my dogs, our stuff, and my worries) and combining for a truly magical outcome. (Darn - I should have a picture of my car here to prove it.  And my aura, too, which must be a calmer color.  Well, you'll just have to take my word for it.) Lou was the igniting spark who told me what an amazing Magician Beth was and providing me with spiritual sustenance and grounding to the earth and loads of love.  Ask for help, and it appears.  Thanks, Beth and Lou!

The Mighty Mississippi

Crossing into Minnesota I crossed the Mississippi River in a car (as opposed to a plane) for the first time ever.  So it was really my first sighting of it.  I even drove out of my way so I could drive along it for a little while.  I didn't know Minnesota and Wisconsin has such beautiful landscapes.  Rock bluffs - yellow-warm colors, blocky (I've no idea the stone - Becca Fenwick, could you weigh in please?).  And as I was driving next to the Mighty Mississippi (which is indeed mightier than the Ohio River - and those of us who grew up in Cincinnati always felt that the Ohio did not get her due - and now I kind of understand why), a train came chugging down the track between me and the river - a long, long, long train, and then a barge pushing coal (I think) came chugging down - and I thought of Mark Twain and all of American literature and how we have channeled and diverted and irrigated our rivers here in America so that we are completely disconnected from them and don't even know they are the life-blood of our land and without them America wouldn't exist.  It seems like about half of America ultimately drains into the Mississippi River.  And we are trying to strangle our rivers, except they won't be strangled.  They get revenge.  Ask a survivor of Hurricane Katrina.