No blogging for nearly 3 months? I’m not surprised. Checking my cycling logbook I see I’ve only ridden a couple times a week, sporadically over the same period.
Where have I been? Here, in Corvallis, managing my restaurant from the floor. Here on the homestead, trying to figure out the next phase of this property. Do we rent it? Do we sell it? Here, in my head, trying to understand my life, plan for my future, make sense of my past. Here, in my heart. feeling so much. Pain, confusion, grief. And feeling more – joy, peace, letting go. Freedom.
Independence Day is bittersweet, coinciding with my 20th anniversary, following my second year of separation. She has relocated to New York, kick-starting her career as a natural foods chef in a way she never could in Corvallis. Her absence leaves a void I hadn’t expected. But should have. Of course. I’m holding down the fort, working to make the restaurant solvent. Before she left at the end of April we began the delicate negotiation of dissolution with the help of a talented and compassionate mediator.
My personal counseling has helped me profoundly. I’m learning patience in the process of transformation, as I hold together the pieces of my unraveling life. Gently, tenderly. Letting go. Treating myself with kindness. Sleeping as much as I can, but not as much as I need. Crying whenever and wherever my grief calls me out. Pushing myself to overcome my fears, to embrace the adventures which lay before me.
One adventure is my fall bicycle tour, for which I am planning to venture south of the border deep into the deserts of Baja. I’m applying for a passport, about time for this 50 year old Yankee who has never left the US of A. So many warnings and fears about the dangers of traveling into Mexico. But that’s part of the adventure, isn’t it?
I learning much about taking full responsibility. For my own life. For my own decisions, for the results of my actions. There is no one else on whom to lay blame. In fact, there is no blame. Only choices and consequences. The price of freedom.
Vintage Bicycle Odyssey 
Ocean… I see you are still writing and tugging my heart strings because you voice so much of what I feel. I want it to stop hurting though. Is there hope?
Yes, there is always hope.