Northwestern U.S. - 2024

In the summer of 2024, I had time off between gigs and decided to make the most of it with one of my best friends from high school. We set off from our hometown in Southern Indiana and eventually ended up in Seattle—stopping in South Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, and Oregon along the way. Inefficiency was the whole point. Call me an anarchist, but I believe every adult should occasionally abandon productivity in favor of whimsy and let a journey unfold with no agenda beyond the experience itself.

The only things I cared about on this trip were keeping my 2003 Jeep Liberty running, watching the stars, admiring old motel signs, and swimming. When we got to the coast, I dropped my friend (a flight attendant!) at the airport and drove back to Indiana solo. At first, I felt pressure to rush the second half of the trip because I was alone. But I ended up savoring every moment. I realized much of my time alone is usually spent managing house and order or worrying incessantly about something. So to have this time to be free-spirited and blissfully unbothered - just me, myself, and I - was a delightful and informative experience.

Since returning, I keep coming back to this excerpt from Mary Oliver’s poem “The Summer Day.” Maybe it will help me stay lighter between now and the next time I can abandon all reason and obligation:

… I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

(Oliver, Mary. House of Light, Beacon Press, 1990.)