I pass through broad swaths of undeveloped land during these seasonal cross-country migrations. Zero cell service, not a blip, for many, many miles. Sitting with the discomfort of this disconnect is illuminating. I listen to my head, listen to the road, or listen to one of two available radio stations. I am thankful for the road atlas tucked overhead. The pace shifts. I quit trying to determine the shortest route. I think about what it’s like to live in a place where the sky stretches out in every direction. I pull over at scenic vistas and speculate about the local geology. I take field notes, collect sediments, jot down ideas for new work and allow my inner navigation to take over. I make note of the sun and wander in a northeasterly direction. I eat when hungry, sleep when tired and travel when rested. Sometimes my eyes well up with tears. Sometimes I laugh out loud. I remember that I like to sing. I take my shoes off and stand barefoot on sun warmed sandstone. For a moment I can feel the earth pulse beneath my feet.
The landing is a bit rough when I pull up to the cabin here in northern NY. The weather is dreary, the cabin is cold and packed full of items hastily stored for the winter and it’s too early in the season to turn on the water. It takes a few days to reclaim the cabin as a living space. I turn on the kettle, take a seat at my oak desk and open my laptop. And just like that I am back in the present day; application deadlines and show dates, to do lists, inventory, bookkeeping. Overwhelmed, I take a deep breath and resist the urge to disconnect, to just keep on driving towards the sun.
I step outside and see a pile of stones I picked up last winter while walking along the California coast. Blue, gray and white, with fine striations twisted and reassembled and cut with white veins, made from bits of ancient mountains slowly ground down by water, wind and time, then washed out to sea and slowly transformed back into stone not just once, but multiple times. They carry the marks of continents colliding, of earthquakes and faults, of stone melting and bending until it breaks. My heartbeat slows and I find peace knowing that the earth will continue on in unimaginable ways and on a schedule far different than my own.
#roadtrip #vanlife #airstreamlife #workinprogress #smokefiredceramics #springmigration #tucson #roadrunner #adirondacks #sedimentology #metamorphosis