To B (and B), or Not To B (and B)

The past week or two have been especially emotionally hectic for me.  I mentioned in an earlier post the shift I felt at New Years, and ever since then the energy has been building to the point that, at any given moment, I could easily break into laughter or into tears.  I have been needing and craving more solitude and alone-time then usual, which is saying a lot for this introvert, seeming to have less tolerance for outside stimulation and requiring more time and focus dedicated to the expression of inner stimulation. The obligations and distractions of everyday life have increasingly frustrated me as I feel stifled to find my authentic self amongst the sirens of the world. Then a couple separate factors this past week and a half or so sent me spiraling back into old inadequacies and doubts, and for the sake of sanity I knew I needed to do something.  Fortunately for me it just so happened that I had no prior commitments this past weekend, and the woods were howling for my presence. So Saturday morning I loaded up my car and I drove.

I had no idea where I was going. Originally my idea was to rent a yurt for the weekend and retreat there to write, draw, meditate, journey surrounded by the loving arms of the wilderness. Try as I might, though, the few places I tried to reserve either had no availability or never contacted me back. "Fine! The Universe is calling me and will not abandon me. I will trust its guidance." I had my tent along, and, worse case scenario, I could sleep in my car, but still my mind wanted a solid destination. Fine. I picked a magickal place I'd been to just once before, and just passing through at that. I set my GPS only to find out I had already passed the exit for it and would have to turn around. Okay. So I got off the freeway and found myself in the same parking lot of a restaurant a friend and I had stopped at on the way North to stay in a Yurt a few years ago. Huh. "Okay, I'll continue North then."

I once more merged onto the freeway heading North. "Hey Siri! What is the closest State Park?" There was a State Park only a half hour up the freeway. Awesome! I had my destination.

Roughly thirty minute later... "That's not a State Park! That's a lighthouse!" Here I was overlooking a beach on Puget Sound with nary a tree within reach. Dammit. The ferry dock was right there and for a moment I wondered if I should board the ferry and spend the day and night on one of the Islands. "No," I thought. When Siri mentioned this particular State Park, it resonated with me. I'd noticed the light house park on the map as well, but the indicated State Park seemed to be separate and just down the way, in the direction of wooded areas. "Okay, so I'll have to find it myself." And I headed south on wending back roads, determined to find my destined wooded weekend retreat.

Soon I found myself nearing the end of a dead end street. Sigh. I hadn't wanted to spend my day driving hither and yon, but it looked like I would have to continue my meandering. But as I pulled up to the end of the road to turn around, I saw the sign. At a right angle to the end of the road began a driveway... a driveway to a small B&B. I shrugged. What the heck?...

..."Hi! I'm sitting at the end of your driveway and I was just wondering if you might happen to have a room available for tonight?" It turns out the woman who runs the Bed & Breakfast was in Ellensberg, practically half a state away. "But," she added, "If you don't mind not having breakfast or letting yourself in, the door is unlocked and the first room on the left is all made up and ready for you."

I pulled in, feeling like this was just unreal. I parked my car like I was in some sort of dream. Really? Does this kind of thing really happen in real life? I got out, walked to the front of my car and looked at the woods sprawling before me. I believe I swooned, and I began to cry. "Thank you Goddess! Thank you thank you thank you! This is perfect!"

I carried my things into the house, which apparently had been a convent -- a note mentioning that if you heard voices and piano music late at night, it was just the nuns who like to return now and then -- and wandered about the spacious home still dragging my jaw along the floor with me. My room claimed, and the registration book in the hall filled out, I walked outside to explore the grounds. I was greeted by rabbits, squirrels, and all kinds of birds. There was a hot tub, a gazebo, and... Horseshoe pits!! I played a quick couple rounds, glad to be alone so that no one saw my pitiful throws, or witnessed me having to crawl into the bushes to retrieve one of the shoes that had gone awry. Next I walked over to the little overlook in the corner, and as I watched a ferry sliding across the Sound near the lighthouse park I'd been at earlier, I whispered to myself, "How can I possibly worry about things working out... Ever?"

With another deep sigh, and a silent string of thank yous, I turned and headed toward the woods that had been beckoning me for so long. I walked down the treacherous little path as far as I could go before it became too treacherous to continue, and I planted myself on a little boardwalk there. And there I sat for over an hour, bathing in the forest. I had tucked a pack of tobacco into my pocket at the car, and here I retrieved it, raising a couple pinches to the various directions, thanking Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, the Spirits of the Upper World, and the Spirits of the Lower World, the Compassionate Spirits of the Middle World - the Spirits of the Land, the Ancestors of the Land, and the Fae of this place - for guiding me here and allowing me to be in this sacred spot. Then touching the pinches to my heart and my lips, I released the tobacco to the wind and watched it scatter and shimmer to the ground.

I watched and listened to a train going by on the tracks on the beach below, I zipped delightedly to and fro among the flowers on the hill with a hummingbird, and I sang and soared overhead with a bald eagle, then danced with him in the sky when he returned with his partner. Did I mention the word 'perfect?'

At one point I felt a familiar itch of "shouldn't I be doing something productive?" Then I heard the following exchange in my head...

      My mind: "Hey! We need to go do something! We've been unsupervised for too long and I don't know what we're supposed to be doing!"

      My heart: "Get used to it."

...I literally laughed out loud.

I did eventually head back to my room and was so relaxed I napped for almost two hours. Upon awakening I went out and successfully returned with the evening's repast, then gathered all my writing and drawing materials to get down to business. That's why I was here, right? To organize and figure out my life? No. That was my mind's idea of why I was there. As it turns out, I was there to just be. To soak in the silence and to soak, in the silence. Writing would keep me in that perpetual left-brained analytical mode, and ironically take me away from the serenity of my immediate environment. Besides, that was precisely what I desperately needed a break from. So I just reclined there, in the common area, on the couch, nary a thought in my head. It was sooooooo peaceful. Something called me to the window, and there I sat for hours just watching the water of the Sound as the sun descended further and further, finally disappearing behind the islands across the way. 

Again I had to just marvel. Really? Earlier today I had no idea where I would be, just that I needed time and space completely alone. Now here I was -- An entire Bed & Breakfast to myself, without even the innkeeper around. The Silence was incredible and so very healing. More than once I was almost startled by something I heard, only to discover each time it was the sound of the beating of my own heart. 

Once the sun dropped below the horizon I decided to call it a night. I was exhausted, but in the refreshing, peaceful way of one who had been carrying a burden for far too long and had finally found the strength to lay it down. I fell asleep still in a state of wonder. I could not have imagined a more perfect day.

Thank you Goddess.