Chasing a dream: Nothing is Normal & Beauty Abounds

I awoke crying this morning.  Not just tears sliding down my face crying, oh, no.  I was in the middle of a red-nosed, swelling eyes, sobbing mess of a cry.  Robert had no clue what was going on with me and kept asking, “Is something wrong?”

Nothing’s Wrong but Nothing’s Normal

The answer was no, there was nothing wrong.  And the answer was that I’m a woman, and I’ve always been a cry baby (my Daddy was a big man with a huge tender heart, my Mom was a strong quiet woman who cried easily, and I got the tender heart that cries at the drop of a hanky!).  Back to my answer:  no, there was nothing wrong.  But there has been nothing “normal” in my life in weeks.  I think normal feels safe and secure.  Normal has its place.

So Why Was I Crying?

I think I was crying for MANY reasons.  One was that “normal” thing, or the lack thereof anyhow.  Another is that seeing this great country of ours—meeting the people, viewing the stunning and varied landscapes, the onslaught of sensations that such a huge move brings, and the myriad of emotions that wash over me each day—all these things combined are simply overwhelming.  I miss the comfort of my own bed.  I miss knowing when the ghost shows come on that we enjoy watching.  I miss morning coffee in one of my collection of coffee mugs from all over the world (each mug with its own story).  It’s weird being “homeless” and having absolutely nothing familiar around.  So I cry.

The Beauty throughout the Land

The Painted Desert is an awe-inspiring view

The Painted Desert is an awe-inspiring view

Red rocks in Arizona

Red rocks in Arizona

The panorama of both the Painted Desert and the Grand Canyon is awe-inspiring.  The layers of texture and color and light and shadows inundate your senses.  The longer you look, the more you see, and it truly is a spiritual experience.  I believe there is no doubt that there is a God who created all this, and witnessing the way it all fits together is powerful and moving.

I also marveled as I watched a bird dance for his dinner in the parking lot at the Visitors Center, realizing that he learned to dance for scraps of bread visitors tossed him.  When people began to exit a vehicle, he’d land close by and squawk.  Once he had their attention, he’d do a little dance from side-to-side, waving his wings and two-stepping.  Then he’d stop and wait for a treat.  If no treat was forthcoming, he’d repeat the maneuver.  Dance-stop-watch.  Until the maneuver became dance-stop-eat.  He would finish his treat, and then it was on to the next car.  Robert even took a picture of him so I could share it.

End of day at the Grand Canyon

End of day at the Grand Canyon

The Native People

I also have to say that I adore the native people here.  Their dark eyes and wide, friendly faces are welcoming, but it’s their spirit of calm and peace that I find most endearing.  A couple of the women I met—probably close to my own age—had such soothing voices that I could have listened to them read a menu and enjoyed hearing it.

Las Vegas Will Have to Wait

This morning Robert and I made a decision to let Las Vegas wait for us.  We figured this:  Las Vegas is about four hours from L.A., and we’ll have plenty of opportunity to visit there.  We have decided to do it when we’re not nearly so travel-weary.  I don’t know whether we’ll make it all the way today, because we are bone-weary.  But we’ll make it by tomorrow.  And I knew even before the trip began that chasing a dream is HARD work!

DREAM BIG!  I always do.

peggy!

Comments

  1. So glad you made it and you will have a different perspective once you rest. You go get Hollywood Girl!

  2. You’re almost there. Hang in there and go after that dream. Love you bunches. ~~Jeannie

  3. You have my admiration and you have me in awe of your free spirited adventure at our age.Go Peggy!

    • Thanks so much, Sandra! I have to tell you, it is HARD to be brave and adventurous at this age! My brain still thinks I’m about 25, but my body knows better! Thanks so much for your kind words.

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