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On the road again

Being in breakthrough is exhausting.

We all long for the same thing: An intensely beautiful, searingly powerful, tightly constructed life. Our stories overlap, whether we know it or not. It doesn’t matter if we’re a lesbian avant-garde artist, a hip clothing shop owner, a professional pickleball player, or a university dropout selling insurance; we all have a heart-rending story about identity, longing, and loss. Our stories are similar. While they take place in different cities, in the end, they’re about the universal experience of being human.

I just returned from a fantastic trip to West Virginia.

It was surreal. Soul-charging. However I describe it, it was an unforgettable experience. The cabin had a rustic charm that made me question whether I was born in the right era. The backdrop to the property connected heaven and earth, thoroughly nourishing my soul (even though it didn’t need feeding). I had many inspiring and irresistible experiences in Shepherdstown. After the first hour in WV, I knew I would leave this cabin and this town deeply touched, or I wouldn’t have done it right.

Well, apparently, I did it right. My well is filling again, and I am planning on leaving Arizona. I haven’t a solid plan yet, but I just know I don’t want to live here anymore.

I was sitting on the couch at 1 AM when I came across this 2004 34-foot Damon Daybreak Class A Motorhome on Instagram. The couple who owns it is moving into a new RV and are looking for buyers. For a solid hour, I contemplated getting on a plane to Utah.

I’ve gone through a few big life transitions. The details aren’t all that important, but each change was pretty tricky. No matter how much I mentally prepared for them, they always seemed to hit me harder than expected. Some even had me rethinking who I was and wanted to be. American culture – and probably most of the first world – is deeply focused on labels.

Ultimately, I believe that change is life and that all change (even the lousy change) is good in our evolution. I see embracing transition as a necessity for balance and duality of maintaining our ability to love and engage with our lives fiercely. I’ve tried to give a lot and build reliable foundations in my life, only to have them painfully torn away when I wasn’t willing to let them go.

I feel good hope for this next transition of mine, but I feel butterflies in my stomach at the same time. While looking for new ground to plant my roots, I’m also rebranding my blog.

Surprise! *said with rapid blinking.

I was hoping to launch today, September 1, but in typical fashion, I fidgeted and obsessed, second-guessed, and hyperventilated over the new name, new logo, new look, and new content. (More than a few times.)

If anyone else is in breakthrough, stop adjusting your clothes and bouncing on your toes; dry those sweaty palms, and for God’s sake, stop rocking in place. If you need to, ask for more time to think it over. Or give in.
Maybe shake someone’s hand.
Make a joke.
Grin genuinely.
Hire a professional if you need to.
And then think about the future and what new things it will bring.

Our stories are similar … and your butterflies are my butterflies.

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