In a little over four months, I will have lived in Hella for two years. Some things have gone as I'd hoped while others have not. But, my faith and focus on my purpose remain unshaken. Even so, there are times when I lay in this bed in this little steel box awaiting sleep and I think to myself, 'What the fuck have I done?!' I'm 54, a professional photographer, and all I have in this world is this truck and the possessions that fit in it. Let me tell you, that's an interesting place to be at this age! At moments like that, I literally do laugh out loud!
I believe in what I'm doing and the sacrifices I have made to make it possible. The work I do is deeply meaningful and a blessing to all I create for. As satisfying as it is, I have been relearning some old lessons lately. One of them is that the successful manifestation of whatever you set out to build or do cannot make you any happier than you are without that thing. True serenity must come from within, not without. There's nothing you can do externally that will make you feel truly whole and valuable. No job, hobby or relationship can fill you up if you haven't connected with the wellspring of your own self worth. For me, staying connected to that source is a matter of following my heart even when doing so poses personal or emotional risk. My risk tolerance has increased as I have walked this path. It has been further heightened as I have helped care for my mother as she descended into the depths of Alzheimers. Witnessing her decline has left me with no illusions of having plenty of time to do what is on my heart.
One of the risks on my horizon is rolling south for the winter in November. Mom is now living in an exceptional memory care home and is no longer dependent on my sister and I for her 24/7 care. My son has come into his own and is becoming the independent adult that I knew he would. I'm doing all I can to gain more patrons to help cover the expense of taking this mission on the road south. But, I will go even if I don't have all the support I would like. I feel an urgency and desire that I can no longer deny. I'm looking forward to the adventure and serving new communities, but I'm also sad about the distance doing so will create between myself and the ones I love here in the PNW. Leaving them for the winter feels selfish and goes against my grain. I have always been the anchor, the one that everyone could count on to be in a fixed position, ready and able to help them in whatever way they need. Hoisting that anchor and setting sail will not be easy for me. It will require me to have faith not only in myself and my instincts, but also in my loved one's abilities to take care of themselves. That personal separation is definitely the hardest part of taking on this kind of life. I will once again have to become very familiar with finding serenity within myself, by myself.
There's that wide open vista again! The one that is equally exhilarating and terrifying. Journey on!
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