A Moment of Clarity Lost

I woke this morning in a semi-dark room in Oklahoma City. The thirteen hours of air travel from Puerto Rico to Oklahoma behind me, but my mind and body felt like I was in a foggy twilight zone. The color, sights and sounds of Puerto Rico were all a distant memory. Breakfast helped clear the fog a little. Coffee helped a little more.

A splash of Puerto Rican color

This morning as I slowly surfaced from sleep to a semi-conscience state I had such clarity of what I what to do next in my journey of creative adventures. It was crystal clear, vivid and in full color. I watched it all in my mind's eye, smiling and happy. It was all a perfect fit. The elusive creative voice and outlet that I seek was perfectly exposed. I remember thinking, "Of course! It's been there all along, silly." I reviewed it all, content and thrilled. Then ((horror of horrors)) I drifted back to sleep. When I woke an hour or so later I remembered it all but with less vividness and clarity.

When I finally took a few minutes to write in my journal I was dismayed to realize that even more of it had faded. Now I'm left with only a sense of it all, and I struggle to keep the panic from swallowing me. It feels like I held a long sought after treasure in my hand only to watch it melt and drip through my fingers. Then I remind myself not to be so dramatic, the clarity will return, and when it is time the next puzzle piece will be there.

The alchemist to the boy--"When a person really desires something all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream."  - The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Next stop: a visit to see four of my grandchildren. That should definitely get me firing on all cylinders or total fry me. We'll see...

#903

Life is like a big puzzle. The table is full of pieces that make up each of our life's puzzle; it is a work in progress that takes a lifetime to complete.
Our family worked puzzles during the winter months when I was a kid growing up in Maine. It was fun to sort the pieces then slowly find matches. My dad taught me not to focus pieces together, to look for those gentle fits. When he'd find one he'd give the connected pieces one tap with his finger. Done. A perfect fit.

I could fill pages of when the puzzles pieces just connect and fit into place (and even more pages of when I forced them together). This time in Puerto Rico is one of those smooth, perfect fits. We came on a working vacation. Tim had business meetings here and being in PR is always like a vacation. We picked a condo to stay in. They contacted us to see if we'd be willing to stay in different condo...sure. Upon arrival we discovered that this different condo was right next to one we had seriously looked at last year when we were thinking about doing a year of urban living. Perfect. So our two weeks began. It went quickly.

A few days before our schedule departure a rental notice went up on the bulletin board by the elevator for a unit. I called and inquired. We popped up to take a look. The price was right, the timing right, the furniture and colors perfect. And that simply we had a new place to call home. Items in storage were unpacked...home was set up. The day we were suppose to fly back to the states we sat over lunch wishing we could stay on for another week or so. There was a moment when we looked at each and and said, "Why not?" We can do our Nationals work anywhere with internet. A few phone calls and our flights were changed, hotel dates moved. Just like that we had another nine days in the sun, sand and sea. No stress. No forcing the pieces. Simply moving a few pieces around to see if they'd fit and then that "tap." Done.

Today we really are leaving our new, little, urban home (condo--our first ever). We have no idea when we will return. We have some ideas, but those pieces aren't ready to be fit together yet. So I'm washing sheets, setting things up for our unknown time of return - happy to have had this unexpected extended time. 

We did discover that we LOVE urban dwelling. Multiple days passed and we didn't use the car. We walk to the grocery store, the drugstore, restaurants and the beach. I met interesting people who came to the island on vacation or like us live between here and the states. These country folks like this city.

There is a tiny bit of sadness as we leave our #903; however, that is overshadowed by the excitement to see  all of our kids and grandkids in the next two weeks and to see long time friends at Nationals. Then we'll head onto Arizona to see my parents and begin another adventure...and set up a different type of home. But more on that later.

It's That Time of Year

It is the time of year when I see basketball brackets in my sleep. This is our 18th year going to Nationals; it is our 14th year running it.

Here's my view as I create and work on brackets.

The only problem is that I feel like a little kid longing to go outside and play. 

It is a good motivation...work hard so that I can run downstairs and put my toes in the sand...walking and snapping some photos.

Just a few more days here at our new place, newly named #903, before we head north to colder weather, family and basketball.

Photo-Heart Connection: February 2013

For as long as I've been going to Shacks Beach this boat has anchored here. I've seen it preparing to go out to sea; I've seen it returning from some trip. Here it anchors...secure even in the storms, high seas and winds. Its anchor holds. 

After being gone from three months it was good to see it still here. It was a windy day; the kite surfers filled the sky and sea. I'd spent the early afternoon at another beach...alone in the sun...too much sun, in fact. But to be in the area and not walk this beach wasn't possible. My husband lent me his shirt, and we set out for a late afternoon stroll...together...anchored...enjoying wind and waves.

So, I connect with this scene--flight and freedom in air and on sea and yet...the comfort and security of an anchor, a place of contentment and belonging. It fills me with gratitude and happiness.