“You’re really living the life. You’re doing what most people want to do, but can’t.” He pauses, turning away to look out the window of the lobby. “Or won’t.”

My mind flicks back to the most recent memory of living life on the road in an RV. I’m not sure dumping the black tank and watching as poo, pee, and t.p. swirl like a septic symphony into the magical place deep underground is most people’s dream, but we are discussing this in a hotel lobby, resting upon a crushed blue velvet sofa with a crystal chandelier sparkling overhead. Dude has a point.

“I guess I don’t really think of it that way. People tell me I’m courageous, but to me it’s kind of ….. normal.” I wave my hand in dismissal of the thought.

His nose releases a soft snort, “There’s nothing normal about it!”

I laugh. I zoom out my perspective using a telescope, grab a quick pano–a little game I like to play– and I know he’s right.

A group of us workampers got together the other night at the Campground Host’s site and there was a couple there that I’d not really met yet; there’s like twenty-six volunteer sites. After a few rounds, (quarters?)–I’m new to the game– the guy approaches me.

“I don’t mean to pry, but… can I ask you a question?”

“Please!” I love questions. I’d seen him watching me and was delightfully curious.

“Do you do this alone?”

Ah, that one. Always tough to answer. I rarely feel alone even though, I suppose, it does look that way. “I’m a solo chick traveler, yes.” Short answers are sometimes best.

He’s shaking his head before I even finish. “I don’t think I could do it.” And he walks on by. Maybe I’ve made him too uncomfortable with the thought of it, even. I stand there, looking across at the bean bags, the board I can’t seem to hit, and everyone around. All couples.

But I don’t feel alone. I wish I could explain it. But it’s hard to put into words. You have to believe it to see it. Most people want to see it, then believe it. You miss a lot that way. Like, a lot a lot.

And it’s good stuff. It’s jump and the net will appear stuff. I’m not saying I know how it works, I just know that it does. I had a guru once, luckily, that said: “Don’t believe anything I say. Try it. Test it. See for yourself.”

I thought I needed a church. Turns out, I needed a laboratory. And that–changed everything.

I’d been agnostic for awhile. I tried being atheist, but my logical mind would not let me deny the evidence I had of a Supreme Being. Something in charge. Something. . . bigger. Making happen what I seemed powerless to make happen myself. I had been carried. Protected. Guided. Gifted. And I knew what the Divine felt like. Because of what it didn’t feel like: human, worldly, limited, finite. I’d seen win-win situations happen time after time. That’s a tough trick for us competitive egos. ‘Self-preservation is what’s really going on today’ **

I could look to ‘God’ like a Petri dish. Or a beaker. Let me mix all these elements of my self, my life, my feelings, wants and frustrations and see what grows. Or explodes. Let me put all these complicated and befuddling equations of circumstances and outcomes onto the chalkboard and see if there’s maybe some kind of a formula. A method to the madness.

Well. Careful what you wish for. I’ll tell you this. If you ask, and you really want to know the answer, you will get the quantum entanglement ride of your life. I guarantee it. And in a world void of any guarantees whatsoever, I think that’s quite the promise.

Don’t believe anything I write. May the way I live my life be an invitation. Permission, if you feel permission is needed. To build your own lab. I promise you, amazing experiments await.

**Young Hearts Run Free -Kym Mazelle

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