Aaaaand, we're back!

...And utterly grateful to be here.

After almost 2 months, 2 countries, poverty and decadence, ghettos and jungles, close encounters, sticky situations, spiritual epiphanies, flayed-open
fears, the kindness of strangers, homemade ice cream, illegal taxis, thirty foot cacti, moonlit skinny dipping, sweat lodges, street food, sick dogs, scorpions, Cuban cigars, fresh papayas, salsa dancing, emotional revelations, flirtations, prayers, songs, the hard-earned bones of a long-awaited book manuscript, and more blisters than I thought possible, I'm back in New England.

Tanned. Bruised. Pummeled. And finally -thankfully- humbly... whole.

I have apologies to make.

For the times I've looked down on simple pleasures I didn't understand, or let my fears trump my love. For the many times I thought love meant holding others to my standards, or holding myself back. For trying to do too much, too hard, because I was scared that the things I knew I could do would never be enough.

For assuming that anybody else's Path would look like mine, just because they happened to overlap.

I had my ass and my heart handed to me on this trip, and one of the things I learned was how much joy there is in appreciating other people's pleasures. So go out there and do all those things that make you happy, and know that if I didn't get it before, if I rolled my eyes or lost my patience or had some snarky reason why I wasn't going to join in...

...there's a good chance I still won't understand. But I'll do my best to love that it brings you joy.

There's more to follow, as I sort through laundry, memories, and the random odds & ends of the past two months' adventures. And of course, now I've got the next stage of my journey to plan. Feel free to come along on as much of it as it serves us to share; it's gonna be a doozy...

Mary Poppins (coming soon to a driveway near you)

Whitney, 10-year-old extraordinaire and daughter of the herbalist I'm staying with, asked me yesterday if I used some sort of magic spell on my car.

I probably do. The sheer quantity of stuff I've fit in my little teal home-on-wheels has earned it comparisons from "a magic bag" to "a traveling Walmart" (you know, if Walmart carried mostly organic stuff, gave it away, and supported the Dixie Chicks...). I prefer to think of it as a cross between a prairie schooner and a three dimensional Tetris game.

The list of things that I have in my car is pretty varied (who else roams around with gold flakes and henna?), but almost all of it falls into one of five categories: Herbs, Ingredients, Clothing, Camping/Household Supplies, and Entertainment & Education(Books/Music/Art). Since most of what I own fits in those groups anyway, even when I'm not playing nomad, this allows me ample opportunities to announce my favorite travel phrase: "Ooh, I have some in my car!"

Lynda and Whitney have taken to calling me Mary Poppins.

In no particular order, here's a sampling of the things people have idly wished for or seemed to need that my car has immediately procured:

-whiskey
-veggies
-a blanket
-maple syrup
-a Verizon cell phone & chargers
-good chocolate
-a jacket
-ceremonial tobacco
-hair tonic
-cold remedies
-spice and herb blends
-books
-pens
-makeup
-informational pamphlets
-fresh fruit
-henna
-skin salves
-sweaters
-herbal emennagogues
-allopathic medicine
-honey
-olive oil
-all natural conditioner
-soy milk
-empty bottles
-empty jars
-CDs
-sleep remedies
-dried herbs and spices
-seaweed
-a sewing kit
-a lighter
-dental floss
-rope

This happens all the time, but I've never run out of what I need.

My theory is that as long as our hands are open, we're conduits for the Universe's blessings, messages, lessons, and gifts. As soon as we try to hold onto what we have, we lose the capacity to receive what we need.

I'm not saying give away the things, time, or energy you don't want to part with. There are times when it makes sense to protect and defend that which you need and want or are holding in reserve, to say "No" to that which is asked, offered, or demanded. But to do so bears a cost, as does every choice, and it pays to be aware of the exchanges we're engaged in, both miniscule and grand.

Think about your life and ask yourself: Do you want what you have, or are you willing to consider an upgrade?