Back in November, I straightened out all of the flights (5) that I booked before leaving the USA, knowing full well I would have to eventually do this, AND at the same time, I finally got the deal on the visa business that have popped up on the internet, I’ve since wondered…
Since all of my plans have been thrown to the wind… and what a wind it’s been… When would I finally make it to Indonesia and then to end back at home? Back last summer, the agreement was two months but, there was no way I was going to go all that way and not see some of these other places. I had to add Angkor Wat, Siam Reap, Cambodia to the list of places to go, then Vietnam.
Back at home? What’s “home” anyway? Home has been overnight in some Asian airport waiting for an early morning flight. Home has been plywood with a piece of foam on top and calling it bed. Home has been trying to sleep with a broken a/c at 104F (40C) outdoors and, home has been waking up with no wood for the stove at 0F (-18C). Home has been a menagerie of www.airbnb.com all through India and S.E. Asia. Now that we got all the physicalities out of the way…
Home … has been knowing that I somehow have a way mapped out to my place of inner peace (call it whatever you want to call it). A place where I can make my way and come back to every time I may be struggling and need to find that place of peace. This was an important part of planning on being away for so long from home and out of what was then, my comfort zone.
I’ve been blessed with having the strength and ability while being away from all of my own creature comforts and to make someone else’s home, mine… just for the plain sake of a place to sleep and for my own peace of mind for when things get a bit tiring and overwhelming. How can that possibly happen anyway? Isn’t it all excitement and adventure and fun? Embracing being human and my humanness by honoring the need for inner peace and a place to lay my head.
Now I am home… as in, Maine
I’ve been back in Maine for about a month. Is it really May 2019? What made me decide it was time to come back to Maine? Basically, I lost my drive and excitement for the next move, the next place, the next adventure. After dealing with some health stuff happening back to back and needing to change plans because I could not travel due to some food poisoning, I was left with a few days to think.
The first thing that came to my mind was DEFEAT. Here it is the end of March and I am not meeting the made-up plan I had in my head that it was to be May. I would be coming home to soon. Wait a minute, had I not originally agreed to only two months and here I am into seven months? This whole defeat thing really doesn’t hold much ground here.
Then I thought of the next few places I was planning on going to like the land of the sinking dragon and more time on the beaches in Bali. I had been contemplating places that I hadn’t planned on and was thinking about going to, like Israel or Peru or back to Thailand. Nothing was getting me excited and juicy. And then I thought that I should give it some time to recover from this yukky food poisoning and come back to this conversation. So, I did…
Was I just hitting another level of travel stuckness and screaming to go home? Hmmm… Didn’t I just write about embracing my humanness which also includes ambivalence which can disgust me? Was defeat getting the best of me? Just work through your illness and then you’ll get your mojo back!
If I choose to go back to Maine… What was I going to do after I get home? I have so much freedom to choose. Portland Headlight then appeared as the random computer chosen desktop pic. OK. It’s time to come home… undefeated.
Since I’ve been home
Things must be easy-going, kind and permissive towards myself as I figure my way into what I’m coming home to. The transition has been easy as far as moving back into a well-kept apartment by my friend which was very nice. While I’ve been back in Maine, I have not had the energy to do much of anything other than sustaining life basics and purchasing a rice cooker and a motorbike. The cold temperatures aren’t helping motorbike riding either.
When I started to unpack I was beginning to look inside of the open boxes that I packed 7-8 months ago. I look at the contents inside the box and wonder who the person is that owns this stuff. I recognize the stuff… but I’m looking at it differently somehow… like it’s not my stuff anymore. After living out of what fit into a 40l backpack for so many months I got used to not having all the “stuff”.
Since I’ve been home, I have been having these wonderful flashbacks in my mind of being somewhere, doing something, meeting this person, eating that food, etc.. There was so much of that kind of thing… new data being input into my brain nearly every day. I realize I will need some time for integration and will allow myself the time that it takes, however it looks.
I’m slowly making my way back into social environments and feel a little self-conscious about what it is that I’m going to say when someone asks about my trip. Because, I have no friggin’ clue what it is I’m supposed to say. I know I could probably sit and talk with the right person for a while if the stars are aligned properly.
Maybe then we already are home?…
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