Moonrise in Bamako, December 31, 2009
On New Year’s Eve 2009 into 2010 I watched the moon rise from a rooftop in Bamako, Mali. I celebrated the arrival of the new decade with friends, music and a firecracker that either misfired or was just designed to be like one big loud bomb - exciting, explosive, concerning, but fun nonetheless. It made our eyes blind and our ears buzz for a few moments. It was a good stage setting for the decade.
In the last decade, I’ve experienced extreme joys, and the deepest hurt and pain thus far in my life. As I move into this new decade, I’m reflecting a bit on the dualities and pluralities of my experiences.
I got married, and I got divorced. I traveled to 12 countries, visiting three of those countries twice on separate trips throughout the decade (France 2010 several times, Mali 2010 and again in 2013, and Morocco in 2013 and 2017). I fell deeply in love following my divorce, only to understand much later that the depth of that love would be met with an equal depth of heart break; one that would coincide with the need to separate myself from all things that had been familiar and move into uncharted territory, in all aspects of my life (I’ve been working on other blog posts about how life can become unrecognizable for almost 2 years).
I sought out the natural spaces of Western Oregon to find myself, my inner strength, and my source of empowerment; taking many solo day hikes, and my first solo backpacking trips in the Cascades.
I rode my bicycle, Sexy, nearly 10,000 miles, from cities to the coast, across wine valleys, through forest fire smoke, in the rain, blazing sun, halting wind, and cold Northwest winter sleet, and more recently down the anxiety-provoking streets of Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn, and the Bronx.
I learned to recognize abuse in all its forms, most importantly for me, the emotional kind; and how to stick up for myself in ways that hadn’t existed before, with real self-love and compassion. I learned to get honest about my own shortcomings and to work on those. I made amends to people; and I spoke more clearly about the things that I’d been hurt by. I learned how to build real, truly real, trust in relationships; the kind that allows people to touch your soul and you theirs - creating these bonds of friendship I hadn’t known were possible.
I said goodbye to my beloved orange cat named Orange Kat, and welcomed my sweet fur companion Lu. We’re celebrating her 5th adoptaversary on January 3.
I faced financial ruin, mounting debt, an excruciatingly long period of unemployment, with times being hungry, and scared to buy food, relying on food benefits and generous gifts from friends; ultimately learning the gift of asking for help and realizing you’re not alone, because those who you love and who love you are there to help.
From those depths I gave in to the universe, to faith, to my concept of god, and to what I understand as part of my nature of ‘flying without a net’ as someone recently told me, and landed in New York City with a new job, 1 contact, and not a clue as to what planet I’d landed on.
I learned what true loneliness feels like - no longer thinking myself wise for understanding the difference between loneliness and spending time alone; but really feeling and living the pain of isolation and too much solitude; especially when surrounded by 8.5 million people. If everything else had been hard before, this was harder. I listened to Don’t Stop Believing every.single.day. for god knows how many months.
But in that I also learned a new freedom, found new things that I appreciate, new permissions to get closer to a whole me in a city where you can be whatever you want. I also more clearly saw the things I miss that are an essential part of me that I can’t get here. I came out more fully and proudly as a bisexual woman in this decade. I more fully awoke to privilege, race, unjust systems of power and oppression, of my place in that, and a commitment to not remain silent and therefore perpetuate injustice towards others.
Through travel for work and pleasure, I rediscovered a nostalgic love of my home state of colorado, and a previously unrecognized love of the high desert. I’m curious as to what this will bring for my future.
And from what had been a longtime acquaintance, turned 1 contact in a new city, into a friend, then turned into a new love that is quieter (except when there’s singing involved), calmer, more trusting, and healthier than anything that’s come before it. A love which models that contentment is a very different feeling from constant excitement (and upset), in a way that has me curious and comforted at the same time. It’s a love that whispers to me when I’m afraid, or think I’m not ready for another relationship, or hesitating a next step, that life isn’t linear, and is some complex agreement between trust, instinct, faith, and courage.
I learned that balance is my next pursuit. The adventurer is a central part of me, but I no longer want that to come with the emotional, spiritual, mental and financial recklessness it came with before. I seek balance in love and community building, learning healthy reliance as opposed to unhealthy dependence. In so many ways, life feels like that time just after college, when things are starting fresh and new, except that I’m 37 instead of 22. My list of adventures and of the life experiences I want to have is only getting longer, and at often times these things feel incongruent with one another. Finding balance and being true to myself is my mission; along with being a good citizen, friend, partner, family member, worker, and spiritual being.
And so as I walked along the East River just after midnight on January 1, 2020 with my new love, marveling at how the hell I got there and how these worlds converged, I welcome this year, and this decade, for all the adventures and unknowns that are coming my way. Net or no net, I keep Oregon’s state motto handy: She flies on her own wings. I might amend it though if I could to say: She flies on her own wings, ever connected and never alone. Happy New Year.
