As of July 30, it has been three months since I embarked on this journey, and my heart is full of… friends.
Honestly, I have barely been sleeping in Minnie, my RV, for about six weeks. I have been staying with friends. And seeing more friends during the days, too.
I planned it that way. I knew that leaving Los Angeles could feel like walking off a cliff. The structure of my schedule and geography were disappearing simultaneously. And I am an extrovert; I need to be with people to charge my batteries, as it were. I get drained when I am by myself too long. So I intentionally planned with my parents to fly out to travel with me soon after leaving L.A., then scheduled my initial route to go up the west coast where I had peeps all along the way.
The universal generosity of spirit of those friends has been such an incredible gift to me. I have been honored again and again with the precious gifts of intention, resources, time, intimacy. I have been taken out for drinks and meals, cooked for (and smoothied for – verb, past tense), and sent forth with road snacks. I have slept anywhere from couches in the middle of common space (forcing residents to tiptoe and whisper around me) to master bedrooms that were vacated for me by my hosts. Twice I have been welcomed to join in extended family gatherings that included family visiting from out of town. One set of hosts heroically held up their end of a deeply fascinating conversation through severe jet lag from just flying half way around the world. And people have planned and participated in adventures for me. Oh, the adventures! I think everyone knows by now that I thrive on new experiences, exploring and learning. The fact that many of my friends have put together intention, creativity, arrangements and time for us to have a shared experience meets every possible element of my being – mind, body, heart and soul.
I have joked many times that this trip should be nicknamed the “People I Haven’t Seen Since the ‘90s Tour.” That’s not exactly true, because some are friends that I have kept up with over the years. But many I haven’t spent time with in a long, long time. And too, many are people who were friendly acquaintances or friends-of-friends who I wanted to connect with more directly – old and new. Spending time with each and every one of them has been like opening a gift. That is not just poetic; it feels deeply true. Each and every one has been like opening a gift.
I am so inspired by who these people are, and what they are doing in the world. It is remarkable to exist in the context of their lives for a few hours or days. The principles, the kindness, the humor, the creativity, the partnering, the parenting, the ministry and teaching and advocacy, the thinking of good thoughts and the doing of good deeds. They are human, in all the inspirational and everyday ways that are relatable and beautiful and difficult.
I am present to the level of richness of spending this kind of intimate time with people. I know this in my bones; the culture of my family taught me this from a young age. I have a great capacity for deep curiosity, deep listening, deep sharing and deep appreciation.
But I also know how many opportunities I have squandered in my adult life with workaholism and busyness and isolation.
Some of what has changed for me is – obviously – that I am not working. But, truly, there are other factors I am experiencing that are accessible to anyone, any time.
One is I have set an intention to spend time with people I care about and am interested in. I get it on a calendar and I get myself there.
Another is (and I know this is a topic for another, longer exploration) that I actually have much more time because I am no longer perpetually compulsively acquiring, maintaining and shedding THINGS. I drastically downsized primarily for practical and principle reasons, but it has been the lesson and the gift of a lifetime that Less Stuff = More Time & More Space In My Brain.
A final factor is that I find I am more and more able to be present in the moment, and doing less of that habitual drifting to fretting about the past and the future. I spend far less time in the traps of being too goal-oriented, or self-involved, or distracted and antsy, and I can just listen, and respond to, and enjoy the person I am with so much more authentically and deeply.
Tim McGraw sings a song called “My Old Friend” that I love. It’s in the context of opportunities lost, and that’s the point I think – to not take the time we have for granted. The lines that make me get choked up every time are in the first verse, above.
In relationship with my loved ones, I am laughed and cried, I am sanctified.
In deep gratitude to my community,
Leslie
