Now seems as good a time as any to end what
had begun. Ninety-six days home after ninety-six
days on the road. God knows, I wanted to
write an ending much sooner but when it was over, I wasn’t sure how. Everything had been so much more than what we
had bargained for. By the end of the
journey I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically spent. I just wanted to get home. But it never really was over. It weighed on
me. Each passing day another crushing stone
on my soul.
Every day on the road I read and re-read
what I had written. It was a talisman,
an anchor. Writing and reading my story
gave it far better meaning than the one I was experiencing. There was power in making the story my own;
claiming the light from the dark. When I returned I abandoned the story. I could not revisit it or bear to recall
it. I wanted to banish all the memory of
it because to remember brought pain. So
much pain…
All I thought off when I was on the road
was how much I wanted to see a friendly face again. I
could not wait until I was home and with the ones I loved. Once home, I wanted to hide myself
forever. I dreaded seeing anyone for
fear they would ask about the trip. To
speak of it made it real and I desperately needed for it to not be. My story telling had out did itself – the
story became everyone’s story. My story
was an awakening for those at home – a chance to live vicariously through a
gypsy’s eyes. No one, least of all
myself, understood the cost this awakening would bring.
I
wrestled with the meaning it of it all.
I wrestled with the deep awareness that a journey worth doing is never
meant to be easy and that when one is most alone transformation takes
place. I knew there was a purpose to
this but I was too raw to embrace it. So
I let the lights go out and spent the next 96 days cocooning in the darkness.
We ended the trip much like we began –
knowing nothing of our fellow travelers other than their shadows. I’ve spent the 96 days since returning
wondering what went wrong. What could I
have done to change things? Over and
over I play the scenerio out and always I come to the same answer – all I could
have done was not be me. It was a
difficult journey…
I have never been so sure of who I was and
at the same time so defeated by that awareness.
I was on a journey where everything I was and was about to become was
truth. No one really prepares you for
the final push though – that final bursting from the cocoon. It is always about how beautiful you wings
will be but never about how fragile and vulnerable you are waiting for them to
dry. I hung on the precipice of
butterfly fruition and complete annihilation sitting in an overland truck
driving the Silk Road.
Istanbul ended in the back of a windowless
van packed with luggage and foes. Crouching on the dirty floor, I made a feeble attempt at black humor saying
this would prepared me for Afghanistan or Syria. I quickly realized the horrible truth in
it. Trapped, overheated, overwhelmed and
exhausted I begged at the next traffic light to be set free. And there we stood, on the streets of Istanbul. Alone, nauseated, unable to breath. We walked the crowded streets to our hotel
and slowly I realized that now my wings were ready. For the next four days I was determined to
fly.
It started with a shoeshine. Three months of dirt and agony wiped clean by
a man living in a cardboard house. His
wife smokes openly beside him and screams “FUCK YOU” to anyone who gives her
grief for doing so. For the first time
in 96 days I feel like I belong. I want
this shoeshine to last forever.
Coffee at coffee houses considered the best
in the world. They resided in places no self-respecting
tourist would seek out. I relish in the
realization that there is no chance I will run into anyone from the journey here. There is far too much color plus everyone
smiles. Sitting sipping coffee I hold
the pieces of my shattered self in my hands.
A million tiny souls waiting to be stitch into a whole human being
again. Any journey worth doing will
require you to break. That’s the irony
of it all – transformation only happens when what you didn’t prepare for
happens. Or more to the point, when
everything you think you know goes “tits up” and all you are left with is
yourself and a shit load of self doubt.
I am still struggling to make sense of it
all. I know I am not the same person I
was before I left. I seem to be existing
in a simultaneous state of profound grief and joy. I lost so much of myself on this journey and
yet I find myself feeling unburdened by it all.
It seems les about what I have lost and more of what I am becoming. You have to become “something” in end. It’s ether that or you die. All those broken
pieces become a masterpiece of a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be made.
There are worse things in the world than
being stuck on a truck for 96 days.
While I was on my journey others were on theirs – job loss, infertility,
divorce, diagnoses, death. All things
that would not end in 96 days and certainly not conducive to pupating into a
butterfly. The first thing an awakening
teaches you is humility. I’d like to say
the second is grace but I’m not there yet.
Now that I am home and my wings are almost ready I find myself wishing I
was a fire-breathing butterfly so no one sees it coming… So maybe the second thing I am learning is
anger. Not the self-destructive kind but
the motivating kind. The kind where you
find yourself staring in the mirror yelling, “I AM THE MOST AMAZING GOD DAM
BUTTERFLY IN THE UNIVERSE” and you start thinking about where in the world you
will fly to next.
So this is the end and this is the
beginning. This journey is now over to
make room for the next. I wanted to say good-bye
to the Silk Road so I could say Hello to the next adventure(s).
Hello Wainwright Trail
Hello India
Hello world. Get ready. You’re about to meet the most amazing fire-breathing
butterfly EVER.
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| Nothing like being blue at the Blue Mosque |
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| Who I should have been travelling with on the Silk Road... |
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| Nothing says Istanbul like a Whirling Dervish Rave |
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| Fishing for compliments on a Sunday Afternoon |
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| The fish sandwich I should have had instead of the crap one at midnight the night before |
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| Simetry |
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| The second best thing next to coffee |
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| The Dialectic that this Istanbul |
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| I waited 96 days for this!! |
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| Joy can always be found in a cup |
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| Always go where there is color |
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| Antioxidant Heaven |
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| Hanging with my Peeps |
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| Turkish Baristas - need I say more |
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| Always find the familiar after a traumatic event |
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| The freedom to swing however I want |
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| Lattes come with cats |
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| I LOVE THIS PLACE!! |
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| No one gets tired of Istanbul |
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| Where the Wild Things Are |
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| WE MADE IT!! |
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| Loss on the Silk Road |
