Tomorrow, I set out on a journey. It's a vacation, yes, and it's a road trip, but there's something that feels more momentous about it to me than just several days away from the office and out of the city. In many ways, this is the trip my soul has been yearning for. My only companions will be my car (which I call Ingrid) and my fiddle (which I call Fern). Otherwise, it's just me and the open road. I've pieced together all of my favorite things - there will be mountains, and dancing, and bluegrass, and fried chicken, and canoes, and lots of quiet hours in the car. There will be space to dream, and time to sleep in. There will be the chance to make new friends, and there will be ample opportunity to remember how to befriend myself.
A friend of mine recently asked, "So where are you headed, ultimately?"
My response was: "Ultimately, I'm headed for clarity. I'm hoping that's somewhere near Asheville, North Carolina."
Thirteen years ago, I took a solo journey, much more far-flung than this one, but an important one for me. It came at a time in my life filled with a lot of emotional churning and big questions, and it caused me to reevaluate my purpose and direction. I walked away from my sophomore year at Princeton, with equal parts naivete and wanderlust and sent myself abroad for the first time, and for four months stumbled around Southeast Asia. It was curiosity that drove me forward, an eagerness to see the world, but also to see my place in the world.
I've tried to stay true to the spirit of curiosity and adventure since then, but sometimes the intensity and whir of New York City can get me all turned around. And so it's time to reconnect.
Recently, I reconnected with this poem, a long-time favorite, and it had a special resonance for me as I began to plan for this trip. I will learn by going where I have to go. And I do intend to take my waking slow.
The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
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