It’s been 5 months now that Frank and I have called Arizona our home. My last blog was about 4 months ago at our 1 month mark. What happened? Where have I been? What am I working on?

No one cares and that is reality. We all live incredibly busy and, I hope, full lives. I do not expect anyone to wonder what I am up to. I do not think more than 2 or 3 people will read this post – especially to the very end – and, really that is fine by me. I’m brain dumping so it won’t make much sense to anyone anyways. Plus, I’m in Arizona, it’s summer. Obviously I have sweat myself into a puddle or locked myself in a meat freezer.

However, a big part of this move was to focus again what I love most: writing. A deeply personal job that feeds me and frees me. Moving to Arizona was the result of around 2 years of what I will call a quest for being able to see the me I know I am, instead of the me I pretend to be or people think I am. It’s a spiritual journey for me because there is a great deal of thinking involved and then listening and reflecting. That is why I love writing. It is a chance for me to try to organize and galvanize the hundreds of thoughts that race across my mind while I am “thinking”. I call it spiritual because these conversations are with my “higher” self, for lack of better words. The self that laughs at me when I say I am fine and I am not. My quest is far from over and while I believe the move was completely meant to happen for us, I have spent time considering the, “did we do the right thing?” dilemma.

We have bought a beautiful house that we love. We call it our forever home – as we can seriously see ourselves here forever. But it came before the assurance of “forever jobs” and that is now petrifying. I grapple frequently with the how can this one thing feel so right and yet I do not have assurance of the ability to sustain it. I doubt. I question. I pray. I receive. And yet I do not write any of it. That is a problem. I keep hearing the voice (no, stop worrying – it’s not audible) that repeats the mantra, “But you are not telling your story. That was the deal.” I am now letting the business (read busy-ness) of my days and work and chores once again interfere with the path and process and ultimately the point. (I love alliteration.)

When we moved I promised myself more time at the keyboards. More revelation and expression about my spiritual walkabout and anyone who wanted to read it with me could join the journey. I allowed myself to stop and it has caused me to get a little lost. This random, rambling blog is my trying to get back. Seriously – this is the very definition of blerg. Blerg…