There’s a familiarity in Portland.
So much like home that I often expect to run into people that I know when I turn the corner.
It’s certainly bigger & my hair has taken on some sort of strange texture that I’ve decided to blame on the northwest air. Which, maybe that’s not fair, but, I’m not sure where else to toss my sideways glances.
I’ve gotten distracted.
What I’m trying to tell you is that I came to the other side of the country to find something. What am I looking for? I’m not entirely sure, perhaps some alone time, perhaps some relaxation or some creative energy or a breaking open of myself, probably a mixture of these things.
I dreamed of a vacation that also served as a writing retreat which also served as a think tank which also served as an emotional break through. Is that too much to ask of one city?
What I’ve found is that my hostel mates compliment me on my discipline, I’m still waking up at 6am and I’m still over here writing my blog post at a coffee shop just like I do every week.
I’m having some fun experiences, but, I’m not sure I’ve quite gotten what I’m looking for. I’m not sure I’ve even fully decided what I’m looking for.
I feel a sense of urgency, to not waste the trip, to make sure that I find the magic before I’m on the plane back to my routine. I keep comparing this time to Nicaragua. I felt something inside of me break free while I was there a boldness a bravery. It was life-changing.
I recognize that I can’t compare sitting in a cafe’ with a journal & a cappuccino to hitchhiking on a motorcycle in the jungle to a remote swimming hole on an island.
But, I still expect things from this time.
I have goals that I want to meet, emotional, career-oriented & otherwise.
What would it look like to simply exist?
Would it be so bad to just let go, to make decisions without concern for the outcome?
To just once not live in a way that has me totally consumed with the product of my efforts.
I think that’s what they call vacation.