2021 Roadtrip I, Chapter V

This was the last chapter of my day really - there was the drive home to come but by this point I’d been round the town, round one side of the lake, stopped for two meals, written, read, taken notes, cried, prayed, and gotten to that kind of mild delirium that comes from hours in the car and miles and miles of walking and talking to yourself the whole time. The sunshine was heady. There was a strong breeze. I was walking again (on the other side of the lake) and I had almost out-walked myself, covered way more ground than I expected, and I think come further in myself than I could really recognise. This was a moment of going beyond myself. 45 minutes perhaps of walking, motion as the wind blew across the water and the sun sparkled. This was the beginning edge of a new version of myself, a new chapter of my personality that I’d been searching for. Stronger than I’d feared. Buoyant, alive. Ploughing ahead without needing to know the way. Moments like this are why we come back from trips changed, refreshed, renewed, and why life goes on to be different

2021 Roadtrip I, Chapter IV

This is where I was catching that early morning light on arriving.

I was just starting to explore the parks and the river, taking in parts of the overall scene, the trees. At the beginning of a day like this I wonder what’s in store, what’s going to unfold, and I start taking stock of life as a snapshot, as it was when I left home, as it looks from a distance. The things unresolved, the things I am waiting to move forward. The achievements and dissatisfactions. The hopes for the what might happen next.

Then there comes this step of, at this point on this one suspended day for wandering, of being with myself, of having to accept myself as I am at that moment. I am really hoping for the next trip that I am in a position to accept myself a little bit more, that I’ll be able to see a difference in my grounding, in my attachment to who I am becoming. That things will be more visible.

I love the greens, and I love the light. There is something of me in all of these pictures, something of myself I recognise in the make-up of the universe around me. A sense of a one-ness with all things and a drawing in of all the beauty in what surrounds me.

2021 Roadtrip I, Chapter III

These posts are making me really happy! I don’t know why telling the story of how I interact with places matters so much but if I keep going maybe I will find out…

This was almost the start of my day, roaming through the town. (The very start was two hours of misty motorways, the sun rising, a hot air balloon in a pale sky, swift wheels on the road.) I loved this town. It was so pretty, spacious with views to the sky, and on a quiet spring Sunday morning had a sandy clean feel perfect for leisurely strolling in circles.

I think to myself, I could live here. I like to imagine living in the places I visit but really could have seen myself here. Though not in the centre, as these days I find I need the space more than the people. On the outskirts, in the countryside, but passing through regularly for the bustle. Something in me thinks that my future imaginary life is better than the one I’m living now, an upgrade, a bonus that I have to qualify for in someway. I always see myself as better in the future. Moving towards greater things. Life right now is almost perfect, possibly the best it’s ever been - do I mean that? There are struggles; I am fighting for things I’ve never had the guts to fight for before, and I do think in that sense that life will be vastly improved once the current fight is won. It might be a different life entirely. And I’m not sure where I’m living now, whether I really see myself in my current circumstances. It’s beautiful, but has terrifying moments. I am longing for the peace the future holds.

2021 Roadtrip I, Chapter II

Next up from Sunday’s trip and we have more water. I picked this spot that came up while I was searching for local houses for sale in the midlands countryside and it turned out to be a huge reservoir with a five-mile perimeter walk. Still searching for peaceful places to sit and just stare at the water, about a mile around I found a single deserted bench looking out with a view right over the lake, and while everyone else was intent on walking and cycling round the path, the little bench seemed made for me. It was quite high with a view for miles out over the countryside and a whole sky full of clouds (we’d had a hailstorm right before) but lots of fishing and sailing activity out on the water.

Honestly I’m not very good at sitting staring at a fixed point and I don’t think I do it enough; it’ll take me a bit more practice and being present to really hold these scenes in my head and start to feel calmer. I thought the fishermen had the right idea, engines off, sat in boat, focusing on a small area of water at a time. However, I do seem to absorb the atmosphere, the intrinsic qualities of the scene and the weather and the feel of the sun and the wind, of being there alone while all these people passed by in couples or families. I probably managed about 30-40 minutes.

I am trying to work out how to let go of the past. While objectively there’s probably nothing wrong with who I’ve been up to now, I am dying to be someone else, trying to dissolve as much of my existing ego as possible (not good for relationships as people mainly relate to your ego) and digging deep within myself to find that kernel of truth, my essence before I started responding and reacting to the pressures of being born and raised here. I’m trying to strip it all back. There’s no need to punish yourself for who you’ve been in the past; but I’m hoping my discomfort and near-loathing for it means I can imagine myself being something fully different in future. Taking life more gracefully.

2021 Roadtrip I, Chapter I

I love nothing more than to take off for the day, weekend, week, however long. Set out at dawn and watch the sunrise through the mist from the road, enjoying the space on the roads before it gets busy. I love multi-stop day-trips where I just wander and pick destinations at random depending on where I am. I have no idea, really, why I love it so much, and it’s very hard to put into words what I gain from it. I’m a solitary person and there’s something about interacting with places and seeking out the beauty, something about finding my spot in the great world outside, that makes me feel free and alive and connected - even though I’m distancing myself from the life that supplies most of my identity. Maybe it is the principle that you can belong nowhere and everywhere. The continual motion and at the same time providing the chance to just stop and take in a scene for a while, to disturb the incessant movement of the everyday. I thought repainting some of these scenes here might help me hold on to them and learn from them a little bit more.

One of the the things I’ve been asking for is a place to sit, quietly, by the water, and contemplate. Yesterday seemed to be all about that. On my way back to the car after a ramble all around an unfamiliar town, I found a little grove right down by the edge of a river, complete with sturdy tree trunks to sit and write on, spring blossom reflected in the water and the slow surge of a minor waterway on a calm sunny morning. It was a little way from the path, the perfect place to hide myself away, watch the water, write, and read. I don’t know why this is so important to me. There’s something about that process of writing, getting new ideas from what I’ve read, trying to work out ways that I can change internally - my soul is on a journey, my physical life a mystery of unexplained joys and disasters, I have not yet mastered myself as a portrayal of what guides me spiritually. So many mistakes. So much longing for change. In these peaceful places, a temporary home built in a grove just for a pondering seeker, I was able to challenge, release and recognise a little more of what I am.