You should never take rides from strangers, or is it candy….tonight, I took both.  Not exactly a stranger, he made a way old Saturday Night Live reference so I feel like I know him.  I met him on the beach and he brought me wine at sunset so it felt like a pretty good idea.  He had to go back to Tampa to take a friend home and wanted to know if I’d like to ride along.  I’d only been here like two weeks and it seemed like a good opportunity to see more of the area and besides, it’s Christmas.  And when I asked if he’d bring me all the way back to my car again if I wanted, he agreed.  So in my bikini and sarong, I go along.  Because I can and because I think for some reason it’d be good for me.  To quote the quirky Jason I dated in Melbourne, “nothing sarong with that!”

We go over the gorgeously lit Skyway Bridge (I think I would seriously have freaked out had I gone over the first time on my own) and we call Karen and they rise to the occasion and sing a Happy Birthday to her that blows her away.  We laugh a lot and we talk about being free and things lining up, about what we’ve done and what we wanna do.  We talk about the secret spots of girls, the back of the knees, playing with her hair, kissing her clavicle.   And I feel such powerful energy in what I say next and I won’t be able to convey it….about how a woman’s invitation is so intimate and personal, how responsible she is for what happens inside her as a result, that it should feel like a frickin red carpet being rolled out.  I felt something in me believe me, and change.

When we got to his place I took like a 20-minute shower; a luxury that a house on wheels does not afford.  He took me to the Ybor neighborhood and I met a bartender who showed me what the next level was.  And then he drove me back.  I didn’t sleep with him.  Maybe because of what I said, maybe because I wanted something on that next level, maybe because I just wasn’t that attracted to him.  I wanted to be.  I drove 45 minutes home and couldn’t figure out what was missing.

There’s a pair of underwear in my purse.  The good news is I found all the clean ones, but not until I pulled in2 the parking lot at the Mexican place.  So, I had 2 change in their bathroom.  I’m already wearing the ones from yesterday inside out.  I thought that wasn’t a real thing when people said it.  It’s a real thing.  It’s been that kind of a day.  I still haven’t found a house and 2 of my appointments 2day fell through.  I did go gleaning at a farm and when one of the workers asked me what I wanted 2 do in this new phase I said, “I want 2 b free, and warm, and helpful.” That felt good when I heard it.

I had a nice chat with a lady about her 1970 vintage trailer.  She talks about it like I talked about my house.  I totally get how u can fall in love with something like that and it becomes a part of u – and u of it.  I would need 2 make peace with an outside shower.  If I’m only always in warm climates, I’m fine.  Saw the Rialta and as cool as it is, I cannot make peace with living in a van.   I tried.  But I need something home-y.

The good news is I’m sweaty and salty and sticky.  I keep reminding myself that I am warm and that I have a really cool rental car and that there is a God and I have turned this over 2 him.  I’m really just following a hunch.  And I freak out a little that I still haven’t really found anything that I like; really like.  I thought I would by now.  I feel I should b scanning Craigslist some more but instead I’m questioning my life.

And then I look up a the dark night and bright stars and think of all I’m grateful 4.   If u wanna get close 2 God quick and easy: gratitude.  Works every time.

I had lots of checkpoints 2day so I c things r lining up.  “Better than Wisconsin” a guy says when I’m getting out of my car.  I’m going 2 c a park lit up with Christmas displays.  I only know this experience from inside a car with the heat on.  I keep 4getting it’s December, because I’m barefoot.

I wake up and the first thing I do is count on my fingers 11 days.  Friday.  That’s the day I have 2 return the rental. The day b4 Christmas Eve.  That’s what my present will b – my new home.  I’m excited.  I resume my search on Craigslist; texting, scrolling, considering, deleting.

It’s hard 2 explain the garden of feelings that occur in me; sometimes switching by the second.  At the highest point I feel all the swirling that the Universe is orchestrating on my behalf.  I c how everything has arranged 4 this.  I c how so much prepared and trained me.  I know where everything is now because of all the times I’ve packed.  No matter how freaked I get I can recall 2 my mind another time I got through it.  Driving the Vail Pass in a blizzard is a good one.  Up mountains so steep I swore my little Honda would just slide right off.  At other times I feel a deep grief 4 all I’m walking away from.  Not the possessions, I brought the best with me anyway, but the dynamics, the holds, the strings, the seeming misfires and still not fully understood redirections,  and all the things I will not b because I’m being this.  The total awesomeness of following my heart and not letting anything get in the way of that.  Acting instead of complaining and making excuses.  And the free fall feeling of really not knowing and having 2 admit it all the time.  Randy says, “if u don’t know then just don’t do anything.  Enjoy the sunrises and the sunsets and the relationships.”  I have been savoring.  Eager 2 move 4ward, and aware of the ticking of time, while also giving a nod 2 where I am right now.  Further than I was, not yet all the way there.  I’m on the bridge.  In the middle.  Letting go but not yet firmly grasping.  Unsure and asking.  I’m in way too big of a situation with too many options 2 possibly b able 2 figure it out.  I have 2 b shown.

I am seeing more and more that there r no rules, there r no limitations.  Only the ones that I’ve put in place 4 the false sense of security of an identity…and I’m knocking them out as fast as I can.

A big bomb of clarity drops: I always want 2 just drive right over it.  I hate waiting 4 the cement 2 dry.  But it must, or it’s not a good foundation and it won’t support what I’m wanting 2 build on it.  In Your Time, in Your Way.

[I wish I could insert the song Graveyard Whistling by Nothing But Thieves here.  It’s my jam.  This line “Once u know it leaves, it can’t hurt u.  And when u let it leave, it can’t hurt u.”  Go, listen]

I wake up warm.  I feel I can handle anything.  I swap my sweaters for shirts and pants for shorts and put my socks far, far away.  I’ll not need them ’til February I’m told.  I do laundry – the machines are outside.  I talk with Bill, the guy’s land we’re on (Will said he just called them one day and said God told him to give this apartment to them to live in.  Will said it came at a time when they were trying 2 figure out what to do and Trinity said, “Ah, let’s just give it to God.”  I always love stories like this, but especially now).

I go camper shopping.  I’m amazed at how laid back people are here.  I fall in love with another big trailer.  It’s 30 feet and feels like home.  It’s got a kitchen island, a pantry, lights under the awning and a grill and outside fridge.  I just don’t see myself in something like that right now.  That’s what the salesman is helping me see.  Do I want to settle between like two places, then this is perfect.  Do I want to bop around the country, then this maybe isn’t the one.  I can’t just park it anywhere.  I don’t have the answers.  I guess I’m still in the stage of gaining clarity.   Knowing what I want to do and then knowing the camper that will help me do it the best.  Yeah, what DO I want to do, I wonder.  The settling idea gives me some comfort, and the roaming idea gives me some apprehension.  Will I be lonely?  Will I just be an aimless drifter with no purpose or people?  I feel my mind dismiss that.  I’m never purposeless and I always find like minds.  I have lots of writing to do and I am enjoying my own company more and more.  It’s just when a salesman asks me, “not married?  no kids?  no grandkids?” (well that’s sort of implied with the previous, isn’t it?)  And then I wonder for a moment….should I have?  Should I have gone this other route offered me by that gorgeous Italian that night over Skype: “Just come back to Rome and we’ll get married and have 3 or 4 kids”  But then I wouldn’t be on this path.  “Conflicting wishes cannot be my will” is the piece of the Course that has been coming to mind this past week as I’d look around my house and reassess what I was about to do and if I could’ve somehow done something different along the way to have things going a different way.  Like continuing to lead the Rich life.  All I come up with is, “I guess not.”

I have this Cinderella tendency that wishes a guy would come along and pull it for me.  I haven’t heard from him in awhile and I think maybe that’s a good thing.  We’re each focused on something big right now and I don’t think he should factor in to the decision I’m making.  “I don’t think anyone should factor in,” my California Co-pilot says and I know she’s right.  This thing is between me and me.

As I’m driving back to the ranch, my younger nephew calls.  I almost don’t answer, but I do.  He tells me how hurt he is that I didn’t say good-bye.  It’s not like I live next door.  They live in Michigan and we see each other a few times a year.  And I didn’t hear from them on my birthday I say – which he relays to my sister so I now I know who this is being fueled by.  I still haven’t answered her challenging words via Messenger so here we go.  He relays back that she didn’t hear from me on hers either.  “I sent her a present,”  I say.  And I was out of the country.  Which reminds me of how I get yelled at whenever I let them know I’m leaving.  I realize that they’re just calling to make me feel bad, so I politely but firmly hang up.

Back at the ranch (ha ha ha) I report about what I’ve found and we discuss options.  It occurs to me, this doesn’t have to take a long time.  Especially when I don’t have any time.  Once my blocks are cleared, I will see clearly the trailer that’s waiting for me.

I’m loading everything up and fanging it 4 Florida!!!  Every single time I pack, it gets easier.  Less anxiety.  I’ve never 4gotten anything.  I have some granola with V b4 I go.  We recap and refocus.  She tells me how David Hawkins scores courage mixed with hope and action one of this highest numbers.  She feels that’s what I have and I feel how great that feels.  We talk about each of our times in Italy and that empowers me too.  That was still the time I felt the most beautiful.  It’s where a pigeon pooped on my arm when I was walking around the Coliseum and an Iranian guy I had met on the street when he asked me 4 directions told me it was good luck.  And it was.  I met Costantine that night and my definition and experience of a relationship was raised off the charts.  Anyway, that’s another story.   We talk about boys a little more, it is one of my favorite subjects, and I say how the guy I was playing with in Madison might come visit and she says, “Well, u might need someone 2 fill in the blanks ’til then.”  And then we giggle.

It was a long, long road 2 haul.  It felt like the last big push b4 the birth.  A lot of my demons came up on this drive.  I feed them cake just like always, but I also wonder when I will stop being so hard on myself.  I’m doing this huge fucking thing, on my own, and I give myself a lot of crap 4 stuff that is absolutely normal.

I pass a church sign that says, “It’s better 2 give than 2 receive.”  I c a post office next and take the hint and pull in.  I mail the magnet.  I had passed a FedEx store that sold bubble mailers that magical night in Nashville right after I bought it which felt so easy it made me smile.  So did this step.  I send it care of the tattoo shop downstairs from his place and kiss it.  I have lipstick on so it leaves an imprint.  The return address is “Shawna the P.A.B” (a nickname) “Somewhere, USA” partly cheeky and partly because I have no idea where I am exactly.  I’ve been diverted thanks 2 a chlorine spill, in a post office that’s little more than a pole building and closes at 2:30.  But I feel better.  That sign was right.

I drive in2 this deep black night towards the horse farm where they live.  2 finally arrive feels magnificent.  And under such a dark sky sparkling with stars.  The barn is lit with strings of those big fat glass tree lights and I once again remember that it’s almost Christmas. It’s 10:00 at night and it’s 70 degrees.  We stand by the wood stove and catch up and then start talking campers.  It’s the unifying force field.  Everyone weighs in on it.  It’s great.  We somehow land on how u know when 2 empty the toilet (evidently there’s a gauge) and the perks of having a bed that one can get out of on either side.  “Because if I have someone over, and come on, I’m gonna have someone over,” I say, “then someone has 2 climb over someone 2 get out.”  Both Will and Trinity chime in ever so sweetly, “well…..what’s wrong with that??”  Ok, so that design can stay.  I stare in2 the flames and think again of what I’ve done and wonder how it’s all gonna play out.  I’m tuned in just like anyone else. When I zoom out and look on it, I feel so cool.  The waves of fear r subsiding.

As I crawl in2 bed, on the futon actually, it hits me, what a thing it is I’m doing.  Whoa. I feel the power of what I’ve stepped in2 and trusted 2 turn out and it feels amazing.  I feel amazing.

‘I want my own house,’ I think 2 myself, ‘that I’m sure of.’  I need my own space.  Be still and quiet.  Let my  creativity flow.  Bryce described Light as “nothing missing.”  It really struck me when he said that.  And it’s hitting me again now.  I feel so good.

I’m gonna do one more night here.  Last night I talked 2 Trinity and we came 2 the idea that it would b better 2 come 2 Sarasota on Friday.  It’s cold here now.  At least I assume it is.  My weather app says “feels like 25” and that’s cold.  It’s 2:00 and I’m surfing Craigslist 4 campers still in my flannel pjs.  I’m beat.  I think I’m feeling the last 2 weeks of being too amped up and not sleeping well.

V calls just as I’m about 2 drive an hour 2 look at a restored 1968 vintage camper that is really too cute.  It seems a bit silly since I have no idea if that’s the kind I even want.  I’m going 2 go 2 an RV sales lot instead so I can look at lots of models and styles and then know what it is I really want.  It’s good 2 know what u want.  We also talk a lot about the Power that’s guiding this all and the Laws that I’m really under and that helps so much.  I don’t need 2 chase it and I don’t need 2 struggle.  Let it come.

I answer the salesman’s questions and again say how I’ve thrown myself at and completely in2 this next phase of my life where I live mobile in something comfortable enough 2 b homey yet small enough that I feel safe driving it.  I fall in love with a 5th wheel but it’s just too big 4 me 2 maneuver without any experience.  But she is beautiful.  Like a little home.  Stairs up 2 the bedroom, an oven 2 bake cookies in, an angled countertop.  I like her, I just don’t know if I can handle her.

I snuggle in under 5 blankets and my head swims with the options I have 2 consider.  Go small and easy but without some amenities or larger and homier and not quite so mobile.  Pull a car behind an RV or pull a trailer behind a truck.  “I just don’t want anyone 2 get hurt,” I say 2 myself.  And then my heart beats a little 2 the drum of What-Am-I-Doing?  I really have no solid answer 2 that right now.  It’s 9:30 and I’m already in bed because I can’t talk anymore and just need some peace.  And I do feel peace.  And joy.  At times.  But I also wonder if I should have tried saving the stuff on my DVR 2 a thumb drive and where did my blue platform pumps end up anyway.  I wonder what my next address will b and why there’s only 5 pairs of underwear in my suitcase.  Where’s the rest of them?  I can no longer remember what’s in the trunk.  What day is it even?  It’s Thursday.   I left on Monday.

I think when you’re mobile and uncertain, u need 2 find your own foundation.  My mind wants grounding and comfort and it’s funny watching what does it now.  Like wanting 2 know where those pumps r.  I probably won’t wear them til Fruit Fest in May in Madison but 4 some reason I’m wanting 2 know now.  And like having my bathroom rug and my down comforter and my cappuccino machine.  When I bring it in 2 make us coffees I say, “The beauty of getting older is knowing more what u want and being less willing 2 sacrifice it.”  And my favorite spoons that I brought in my Kitchen Backpack.  And the fact that I have favorite spoons.  I like how they feel in hands.  They have a weight and a shape that I enjoy. And one of them I slipped in2 the pocket of Costantine’s tight black pants at a café in Florence.  I remember that like it was yesterday.

My mind goes back 2 me packing up my closet and dresser into apple boxes from Pierce’s.  I don’t really like my mind 2 go back there; it’s a little sore still.  Although, I’m not as sad about it as I would think I would b.  Maybe it’s because it’s under a foot of snow.  Maybe it’s because at the last minute I had 2 spend half a day insulating the pipes in the basement and feeling skritchy.  Maybe it’s because I’m finally getting over the whole fear of loss/unable 2 let go/transition kicking and screaming thing.

“Welcome 2 Georgia,” the GPS says.  And then, “Welcome 2 Tennessee.” And then, “welcome 2 Georgia.”  I land at the house of friends who invited me many years ago and various times.  We talk over camper and trailer ideas, the husband knows lots mechanically and I’m trying 2 keep my eye on the prize here and keep looking at the fact that I do need 2 find a house and something 2 pull it with.  I’d love 2 just sink in and savor the fact that I’m 3 states from home, 20 more degrees warmer, and the innumerable ties and residue that I feel I’m shaking off.  And I do.  I’m already feeling some healing.  And I’m making some chai with the best ever almond nog that I had 2 bring  with me.  I talk with V as we sip tea by the wood stove.  I feel ever bit that I’m in Georgia – it fits what I was told it would look like; although I thought she was exaggerating.

I’ve got 11 days in a car rental 2 figure out my next home.  My car was totaled by a cement truck, thus the 11 days in a rental and my house was sold 2 someone who won’t love it near as much as I do, thus the need 2, um, figure out.

I moved in2 it a year ago.  I felt I’d rather live in a dusty work in progress with paint tarps 4 curtains and sleep on an air mattress and get dressed in the garage than live in my apartment.  I also knew that that would set in motion a where-will-I-go-2-next dialogue within myself and with those close 2 me that would turn 2 action at some point.  I remember having tea with a good friend on my sofa after getting settled in, “Sooooo,” she says “you have no idea what u r going 2 do, but u r hoping that it becomes clear by the time the house sells.”  “That’s right,” I say.  “That would give me incredible anxiety I think,” she says.  “The thought of doing anything else gives me incredible anxiety,” I say.  Because I already knew one thing 4 sure, I wanted something different.  I was releasing my hold on this area, and it was releasing its hold on me.  “Not here” was a strong enough stone 4 me 2 step out on.

That was November 30th, last year.

I have spent a year looking at a myriad of possibilities and a variety of contingencies.   I have discussed it with friends and family and strangers alike.  I have prayed, watched 4 signs (I once followed an Airstream trailer in2 a rest area when a Prince song was on the radio and quizzed the startled couple about it hoping 2 peek inside), studied the weather app, listened and entertained others’ lifestyle choices and I have even been open 2 returning 2 my Madtown and “settling down” with someone I deeply loved.  And when the time came, this is the best I could come up with:  I threw the things I cherish the most in my car and put Wisconsin in my rearview mirror.  I’m going 2 just belong 2 the open road 4 awhile.  Ride the wind and c where it leads me as I step out of the comfort of having an address.  It’s been a heck of a year and I’d like 2 throw myself on the current and just.trust.  As I open the Google Map app it pops up “54 minutes to home.”  Silly Google.  We have no home.  “You’re gonna kill Google’s algorithms,” Stride says when I text him that.

2night the current has brought me 2 Nashville.  The City of Music seemed like a good destination.  I liked driving and remembering all that’s led up 2 this as I watched the snow disappear and the outside temperature reading rise the further I went.  I feel a nice mix of courageous and crazy.  I feel very supported.  I feel very strong (most of the time).  I’m mostly excited with waves of fear that hit me like an existential nausea.  Luckily, they usually come in the night when I get up 2 pee and then I just fall back asleep.  Best of all, I feel that this is what I’m supposed 2 B doing and that I’ve wanted 2 do it 4 awhile now.  I just needed an impetus.