Monday, January 23, 2017

Day 58 - 11/19/16 - Andrew Molera State SP to Kirk Creek SP, CA

I forgot how much I enjoy my alone time in the morning and in the evening.  I’ve been in my tent for the last couple hours even though it’s only 6:00pm.  It’s been drizzling on and off since the early afternoon so I actually made an early dinner right in here.  The idea off writing more consistently brightens me up; the activity has become my rock, my way of staying grounded.  Even though I can’t post everything I write everyday for folks to check in on me, I still feel like I’m talking to everyone when my pen hits the page.  

With less than a week til Thanksgiving, thoughts of family and friends are at the forefront of my mind.  I’ve never been away from home so long, almost 6 months, and I’ve never spent the holiday season away from home.  It will be good for me, changing things up is good for everyone, that’s how we learn things about ourselves.  What do I now know about myself that I did not know before?  I guess that I can survive without a shower for a couple weeks.  I’m strong, physically and mentally, I’ll take a small town or a city any day and a secluded campground over a small town.

I can control my life by the way I look at it.  I’m full of love for all things in the universe.  I think I’ll really see some personal growth once I go back home, a changed person in a familiar situation.  Big Sur has a presence like some sort of sleeping giant laying across 70 miles of sea, cars and bikes riding up and down its spiny back, another place in nature people go to feel small, to connect with something so powerful...I had a headache this morning, the worst one I’ve had in a while.  I woke up with it around 1:00am, I thought maybe the mushrooms dehydrated me so I slugged some water but, the damn pain was with me all day, I almost didn’t want to ride for fear I wouldn’t enjoy the scenery.  

But I made it the 35 miles, head pounding most of the day, and it did not interfere once.  I had to tell myself to get over it, to remind myself how many people on Earth are in worse pain than me.  And probably none of those people are here in one of the most beautiful stretches of road here on Earth.  Everything is perfect, me by myself, the rain, Beethoven playing softly from the speaker next to my knee, my luxury-coffin-sized tent, the waves less than 100 feet away.  I may feel lonely at times but, none of us are ever by ourselves.

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