One of my favorite past times for many years now has been camping. The stories others share around a campfire, sounds of the wind, animals roaming through the trees, loons calling out, the smell of campfire smoke in my clothing...a nice break from the high heels, make-up and hustle bustle of the city. I didn't always value this past time. It's different now.
At a younger age, when I lived in Montana, my parents would occassionally take me out camping and hunting with them. I still remember how annoyed I would get that I couldn't stay home to party, stay up all night talking to older high school boys, going on nightly cruises on 'the drag' in downtown Missoula or just plain find something to do so I wouldn't be stuck with myself. Always to escape. Though, I do have vivid memories of enjoying the sunrise over the Bitterroot Mountains while feeding our horses, and the way my mom's beef stew tasted out of a bread bowl. I think these are now my favorite.
In my twenties, living in New York City...moving there, not knowing a soul, scared as hell but determined. I had visions of grandiosity thinking I was going to conquer that city! Going to school, babysitter by night...drinking every chance I got, curious about people, yet starving for attention. Sometimes I had to get away, even in the latest hours of the night. So I'd hop on the subway, ride it down to Battery Park, step onto the Staten Island Ferry and enjoy the peace and quiet of the harbor. I can still remember the smell of the salty, humid air, the creaking sounds of the ferry and the dazzling city lights in the distance. It was on that ferry that I made the decision to go to live there in that bustling city.
It was also in that city that I started searching and found out I was not the center of the universe, there was a God and I was not Him. This was a rude awakening. The awakening that other people, just like me, had hopes, dreams, loves, desires...and maybe some were actually really happy, whether or not I thought so did not really matter much. I didn't know it all. I awakened to this while waiting for a 'walk' signal on the corner of 23rd Street and 6th Avenue. Everyone was so busy getting to where they needed to go. Everything got quiet and I was frightened, humbled. I immediately went home to my basement floor, Astoria, Queens apartment and went to sleep!
Three years later, when the tsunami hit Thailand, my heart felt broken. I left my Van Nuys, CA apartment and headed for the Pacific Palasades. When I arrived at the beach at sunrise, I prayed for all the families that had been affected. This was an improvement from the earlier years of not understanding how much devastation was around me in other people's lives in NYC after 9/11. Here, on the beach at 23, I wasn't as self-absorbed. It was so quiet that morning. The gentle waves crashing was about all I could hear until the dolphins came so close to the shore. It was so majestic! I had never seen dolphins in nature! I found out they arrive about the same time there every morning and afternoon. This was my new favorite place for peace and quiet.
It was on Whidbey Island in Wasington State that I gave up the booze and it was in the quiet of a foggy morning. I asked God for help. And today, in Minnesota, I treasure this campfire I sit beside, the sounds of birds in the morning in my new neighborhood, the sunset drives in the convertible with my boyfriend and his beautiful girls, the smile on my mother's face, the sound of truth and even the smell of flowers.
I don't live a perfect life, though I am grateful and carry an attitude of gratitude as frequently as possible. The shift in attitude helps me value my beautiful, sober life, and be in acceptance of others and how they choose to live theirs...especially in the peace and quiet.
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