Goodbye to My Wild Blue Honda -- and the Rest of My Trip

This trip has progressed very, very differently than I anticipated. As it turns out, I won't get to see New Orleans, Atlanta or St. Augustine. Nor will I visit Mobile, Little Rock or Oklahoma City on the way back.

My trusty steed of steel and glass and I must part company. The air conditioning system self destructed, apparently shooting metal fragments throughout its own components. Repairs are far too expensive to be worth the investment. Having it repaired feels like a bad risk, since I've been having one issue after another with it since December 2010. I never imagined I would say goodbye this soon, even so, and in Texas, of all places.

So I'm staying in Austin longer than originally scheduled. I consulted with my sweetie, and he recommends using the money that would have gone into repairs -- as well as seeing if my old car has a reasonable trade-in value -- as a down payment on a new car. After that, the expense of continuing my trip would prove too great for our bank account, so I'll head home from Austin next Wednesday. Hopefully in a new, reasonably priced car.

As you might guess, I'm disappointed that I must cut my trip short. I'm also grieving my car. As it turns out, my trip is less important to me than having transportation on a regular basis. This trip is a symbol of the freedom to do what I want when the mood takes me. Without a car, I could still do that, I suppose, but on a much more limited basis. At least I took a few photos of my faithful steed to remember it by. Here's one, taken at a rest stop somewhere along I-10 in Texas:
On the plus side, there are a few adventures I wanted to have on the way to Austin that I may stop and have on the way home. I never did see the Carlsbad Caverns, the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge in Taos or the Grand Canyon. I also wanted to do the Ghost Tour in Jerome, Arizona. All of those -- or even a few -- might prove possible on my return trip.

Even without seeing a lot of Austin, I've already had adventures aplenty in Texas. My blessings go out to Nick, my tow truck drive with a heart of gold. Such a gentleman, and delightful company. I would never have made it to my hotel in Austin without him. My blessings also go out to the three young men who will forever remain nameless -- since they never gave me their names -- who pushed my car to the Miller Creek RV Park just outside Johnson City, Texas. By the time I put my Honda in park and turned around, they were already running across Interstate 290 in the maddening Texas heat, back to their cars and their own adventures.

I do have transportation in Austin, having rented a red Dodge behemoth of some sort. It eats gas for breakfast, lunch and dinner and the best thing I can say about it is it's a nice color, it runs and has amazing brakes. Other than that, I dislike it -- probably because I miss my own car. A standard-size, bright red, gas guzzling vehicle cannot compare to my cool blue, compact, hybrid chariot.

Well, it's late -- at least according Texas time -- and I need to get a little more work done before I get to sleep. Take care, dear readers, and may you realize your own brilliance and shine like the stars you are.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

The Best Laid Plans (Two for the Price of One)

I can truthfully say that I very much wanted to visit the Grand Canyon a second time. I'm certain I'll do so at some point -- just not during this trip.

Yesterday was the day I had reserved for that particular brand of Grandness. I was asleep by 10 pm, and around 8 am. Unfortunately, however, I was anything but eager to drive the 80 plus miles to the South Rim. My body felt tired and achy, and lots of driving yesterday, prior to lots of driving today, just felt exhausting.

Instead of feeling disappointed, however, I decided to find out what was closer to the hotel in Flagstaff that might prove fun and entertaining. I ended up going to the Sunset Volcano National Monument and Wapatki National Monument. Both attractions are 20 miles apart, and for a mere $5, they were both mine for the day.

The lava beds were mightily impressive, yet my favorite part of the trip was still to come.

Lovely Quaking Aspen grew tenaciously in the rocky, black soil -- clearly still closer to lava chunks than true dirt.

After one stop to view the ancient lava beds, however, I decided to move on to the Wapatki ruins, but never made it. I saw a sign for the Wukoki ruins, and on impulse, turned left down the 2.5 mile road. After a few minutes, the ruin of an ancient Hopi big house hove into view. Wukoki is the the modern Hopi word for a large, multiple family dwelling.

As it turned out, I could hike a short trail to the ruins, and even climb up into and on them -- as long as I stayed judiciously on the trail. This, I was happy to do. How often have I had the chance in my lifetime to climb through the remains of a Hopi home from the 1120s? That would be never -- until now, of course. Along with these photos, I'm inspired to share my first poem of the trip, a road haiku -- or would that be road-ku? At any rate, here it is:

I see the whole sky.
Blue upon blue horizon.
For miles and miles, blue.

The ruin was unusual, because the dwelling had originally been three stories -- apparently a rare thing for Hopi architects to attempt. Three families lived in this house, and I had little difficulty imagining them there.

The view from the open plaza has likely changed somewhat in nearly 900 years, yet I'm guessing it was just as impressive then. How much have the mountains shrunk in all that time, I wonder?

At any rate, I'll leave you with a view of the whole structure -- or what's left now.

A few interesting occurrences during my trip so far: in Sedona, I stayed at the Days Inn in room 138. In Flagstaff, I stayed at the Rodeway Inn, also in room 138. No, I didn't request it, that's just the way it happened. I'm writing this from a Borders in Albuquerque, about two or three hours from Taos, where I'm staying at another Days Inn. Stay tuned for the room number!

On a more mundane note -- yet no less exciting to me -- my car has been performing brilliantly! I recorded 45.4 miles per gallon (mpg) on the trip to Mesa, Arizona, and 41. 3 mpg from Mesa to Sedona, then 40.3 mpg from Sedona to Jerome to Flagstaff to Navajo, Arizona. As I get higher (current elevation is 1 mile above sea level) I seem to lose mileage. I'm sure there's some scientific reason for that, but I don't know what it is.

Well, here's the final photo of the Wukoki ruin, for your viewing pleasure:

Take care, and may your travels prove blessed and your worries few.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

Life, Death, and the Road

Today I spent the day in Sedona with my closest friend. She drove up from Mesa to spend a few more hours with me before we part company for about a month. I've loved the time we've spent together, and I'm also eager to be off on my own -- just me and the open road!

I got a call this week from another dear friend, who told me her mother just passed away. She'd been anticipating "the call" for over a year. I spent time on the phone with her, letting her know I love her, and that I have some small understanding of her pain. I lost my mom in 1996, and the anniversary of her loss -- July 5 -- occurs at the end of my trip. I wish I could have been there to put my arms around my friend, and in my memory I grieve with her.

I got a call yesterday from my sweetie, who told me he found a new job after being laid off in February. I called back to congratulate him, enjoying the sound of his voice tinged with cautious optimism, wishing I could be there to celebrate and kiss him a time or 27 -- just for luck.

Even though I want to be there, and share joys and sorrows with people I love, I'm here, in Sedona, Arizona having an adventure all my own -- and I want to be here. The people I love are here with me, whether they know it or not. I'm guessing some of them do. Dear friends, all those of you who wanted me to pack you in my suitcase and take you along on my trip -- and you know who you are -- please call when you think of it, when there's a spare moment in your busy lives. The moments we share are precious to me, and you can join me on the road, wherever I happen to land, through the miracle of wireless radio waves.

If you don't have my number, email me and I'll send it. If you don't have my email, send me a message on Facebook. If a phone call feels challenging, send me an email. I really want to hear from you.

Tomorrow I'm off to Jerome, Arizona, which boasts a reputedly haunted hotel and wild west history, then on to Flagstaff, from where I plan to visit the Grand Canyon for the second time in my life. I'll stay in Flagstaff until Monday, so I can take in as much of that Grandness as possible before heading to Taos, New Mexico.

It's getting late, and I'd best get to bed. I've got a big day tomorrow, and checkout time is 11 am. If you feel so inclined, let me hear from you. It needn't be tomorrow, or even the next day. Whenever the fancy possesses you. And if it never does, worry not -- I still love and think the world of you.

Thanks for reading, and may bliss and brilliant inspiration find you wheresoever you go.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

Late Start

After a very late night on Thursday, I woke up shortly after 11 am Friday morning. Following the stressful two weeks preceding my trip -- losing my Dell laptop hard drive and all data thereon counting as just one stressor -- I allowed myself to get a late, slow, relaxed start. As it turned out, I left Oakland shortly after 5 pm.

Surprisingly, traffic on 580 East moved swiftly and I was well on my way by 6 pm, cruising down I-5 South toward LA listening to retro tunes -- Cream and the Beatles, for example. Speaking of cruising, I want to devote a few words of praise to one of the best darn inventions of the 20th Century: cruise control! By itself, a thing of beauty, and when combined with the benefits of a hybrid -- sheer perfection!

I've already traveled almost 300 miles, and still have a third of a tank to go. I expect my MPG will prove close to 50 for this leg of the trip! YEAH!

I also want to tell the story of arriving at the hotel just outside LA. I began seeking a hotel around 10:30 pm, keeping the faith and driving forward optimistically. My good cheer began to wane as my bladder expanded with each passing mile. I finally chose an exit around 11 pm and plunged into the wilds of LA's outskirts.

First, my GPS went temporarily insane. That's really the only way I can describe it. I pulled over to the side of the road and turned it on, searching for points of interest (spelled h-0-t-e-l-s) in the area. It listed the Kamaka Hotel, only 1 mile from my location. Just one hitch: the road on which it instructed me to turn left did not actually possess a left side. Instead of turning, therefore, I proceeded straight ahead. What happened next? Read on!

The GPS then performed a "route recalculation," instructing me to drive 5.9 miles and turn right on Sepulveda Boulevard. I proceeded to this location, growing more confused and panicked by the moment. I truly flipped my lid when I noticed that the destination toward which I was driving lay 28 miles away. Where was the momentarily possessed device taking me? I have NO idea. I stopped listening to it when I happened into a brightly lit area near the I-5 on ramp that boasted restaurants, gas stations and -- YES! God and Goddess be praised! -- hotels.

I chose the first likely looking, reasonably priced establishment I found. I signed in without incident -- bladder screaming for relief -- and then went in search of my room -- #100. "It's in the back," said the woman behind the counter. Oh, would that it had been so easy.

I walked out of the office and saw that the room number closest to where I had parked was 172, and the numbers descended heading away from that point. Being a logical, intelligent sort of person, I got in my car and headed around the corner. I passed the 160s, the 150s and 140s. I rounded another corner and passed the 130s and 120s. I rounded yet another corner -- coming in sight of the office once again -- and saw the 110s. I parked in what seemed a likely spot and walked over to where I guessed room 100 would be. Such folly to believe the world is logical!

I walked down the row of rooms to 101 -- and there the trail ended. Immediately around the corner was a staircase leading to the second floor. Further on lay the corner around which I once again found the 130s. Near the office, the room numbers were in the 160s. I walked in widening circles, shaking my head. Finally, being an intelligent sort of person, I went to the office again.

"Where is this room located?" I asked. "I can't find it. I found room 101, but room 100 doesn't appear anywhere nearby."

"Outside, around the corner," the woman said.

"I tried that," I said.

She came out and led me to the room, walking in the opposite direction from 101, back toward the rooms in the 170s, where I had originally been. And there it was -- Room 100 -- right around the corner, and conveniently located right next to (wait for it) Room 140!

At that point, I had to laugh. Oh, the adventure of life. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!

Well, it's getting very late, and checkout time here, blessedly, is 12 noon. I'd like to get a few hours of sleep before getting on the road again tomorrow.

Thanks for reading, and may your worries prove few and rewards prove many!

Love, blessings, and good night.

I Want to Be in Belly Love

I've been having a challenging time the last couple of days, wrestling the demon of self-loathing. After all the years I've worked on boosting my self image and esteem, this bout took me completely by surprise.

On Sunday I went to a wonderful consignment shop and tried on a large number of clothing items. I ended up with three things that fit and looked good on me. I also left the dressing room with a serious case of the why doesn't my body look the way I wish it did blues.

I've had the excellent fortune to have very few of these bouts over the last several years, ever since I lost 80 lbs. on my current eating plan. I was shocked to realize on Sunday that I still see myself as huge. I really don't know what brought it all on, but I felt deeply envious of all the slender women in the shop that day. "Why," I asked myself, "don't I have cleavage and a tiny waist?" For many years, I've dressed in long dresses, skirts and pants, as well as in styles and cuts of fabric that "hide" certain offending body parts -- namely my round belly and thick legs.

Perhaps I felt that way because summer is fast approaching -- although with the rain and cold weather in the Bay Area today, you wouldn't know it. Leaving that aside, however, I sometimes feel wistful when warmer weather begins, wishing I could drape my body in tiny silk chemises and satin shorts with bikini tops.

Finding beautiful clothing is a challenge for me, and also an absolute necessity. I'm definitely the artful, sensitive type, and it delights me to express myself via my wardrobe. So I do, whenever possible.

The past few days, I've been diving deeply inward. That's how I discovered that part of me still hates my belly. So I've decided I want to be in belly love. In the face of no agreement, in the midst of a culture that constantly tells me, "Get skinny, because you're not worth anything unless you look a certain way," I am apologizing to my belly. She gives me so many wonderful things, and I fail to honor her on a regular basis.

This post is my official declaration of working toward deep and serious belly love. May we all fall madly in love with ourselves, because we all deserve love.

Blessings, and thanks for reading.

Incredible Gift

Our words are so important. What we say--or write--and how we say it can create healing or inflict pain. As a writer and editor, I make my living with words. I edit hundreds of articles each month for an online service, and do my best to help authors. Sometime I grumble, sometimes I complain. Even so, I always leave comments for the author praising their efforts and wishing them a lovely day or week. I try to personalize if I can, and write words that come from my heart.

Today I received an incredible gift: to know the effect of my words, and how much deeper it goes than I ever imagined. I received the following message from the editorial desk of the online service this morning, containing a message from an author who very much wanted to get in touch with the editor who left comments on a recent article. We edit anonymously, so it is likely this person will never know who I am. This author wrote the following (CE stands for copy editor):

I was wondering if the editorial team would please pass along my gratitude to a CE who edited my most recent article. This particular CE left the kindest note. My sister was killed in a car crash last month and I've been doing my best to write during this time. Of course the CE doesn't know this, but his/her comments made a complete stranger's day so much better. I'd love it if someone would please let this person know.

I wept at these words, at how blessed I am to receive such a gift; at how many times in my past I have wounded others with words; at how many opportunities for healing I might have missed; at my incredible good fortune that I get to keep learning, becoming ever more conscious. What I wrote is less important than its effect. I still want to share the words, in case someone else needs to hear them:

Great article, and a pleasure to edit! Thanks for all your work. Take care, and may the rest of your week prove wonderful beyond all expectations!

Thanks for reading, and may your weekend prove uplifting and fulfilling.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

The New Ford Focus, with Optional Lizard

Hawaii, Hawaii. Oh, how mixed are my feelings about you, reputed tropical paradise and tourist mecca. Right now I have bugs of various kinds crawling down my back, along my arms, up my legs, across my forehead, over my belly--well, you get the idea. And this is all happening after an application of Waikoloa Bob's Hawaiian botanical oil. There are moments when I believe I shall go quite mad, and end up a gibbering wild woman, cavorting through the jungles of Puna with a giant fly swatter cackling and calling out, "Come to momma, you little blood-sucking motherf***ers!"

Other than that, I'm fine! How are you?

Oh, wait, did I forget to tell you about the lizard in my car? I picked up a rental at Hilo Airport during my first week, because I realized it was folly to believe I could survive without one. Anyway, they gave me a very new Ford Focus, with only 4,000-plus miles on it. The lizard came later. He (or she--who can tell?) ended up in my car because I tried to save him from getting blown off my windshield. One day as I returned from filling the tank, I looked up and there was a little yellow lizard, perhaps two or three inches long, clinging for dear life to my front window. He tried to lift his head, and the air pressure pulled it back. Fearing for his neck, I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to coax him off the glass--and scared him right inside my car!

To make a long story a little shorter, at first he would crawl out of the air vent once in a while and pay me a visit. I haven't seen him, though, since decided to crawl up my leg one afternoon. I screamed like someone was trying to kill me and shook my leg quite hard. Last I saw of the little guy, he flew through the air a short distance. Not surprisingly, he hasn't poked his little yellow head out since.

I had quite an adventure with the ocean last week, too. I had no clue how powerful the sea is out here, and got bashed against some rocks by a giant wave. I went to the water on a ritual quest, seeking cleansing and transformation. I specifically sought to release what no longer serves me, and the injuries I received were perfect, since they are identical to ones inflicted on me frequently in childhood. Deep processing of past emotional pain ensued, and I realized I was finally ready to let go of some old ways of seeing the world--ways that no longer serve me in the life I've created. And that was just my morning. Later the same day, I decided to brave the black sand beach in Puna, along Kalapana-Kapoho Road. I give myself points for bravery, that's for sure--facing the sea twice in the same day.

I stood on the beach, feeling the waves wash over my legs and feet, believing I was safe because I was on a beach. Oh, how foolish I was then. Quite a large wave came and covered me. It knocked me off my feet, rushed up my nose, and started dragging me out to sea. I fought to stand upright, and as I did, my head whipped around to spy a truly enormous wave moments away! I threw myself forward, reaching my hands toward the beach as if I could anchor myself with handfuls of black sand. I was certain the wave was going to grab me, cover me, and carry me off and I would cease to be embodied on this gracious plane.

Yet Pele sent her priestess to my aid! A woman with long silver hair flying out behind her, and short white skirt whipping up to reveal her yoni and her long, tanned legs pumping ran to my rescue. She grabbed both my hands and helped me make it to the beach and solid sand before the second wave overtook me. I do not know her name, but I will never forget her. I hugged her and will forever think of her as Momma Pele.

I feel blessed to be alive, despite the aggravations of insects and all else that conspires to remind me I am theoretically in paradise.

Thank you for reading. Tomorrow I'll write about the rainbows, pan-fried ono, dear Darlene at the coffee shop in Pahoa, and other adventures. Take care, and may you appreciate all that you have.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~