This is the life: awakening to sunshine, a table for writing and simple minimalist surroundings.
It suits, among other things, the inner Zen monk …
The transition is flowing smoothing. While not without the bumps of emotional baggage, which I hasten to examine though not for long before tossing it out the window as another unwanted and unnecessary item, all feels good.
I sleep soundly and without disturbance or interference on night 1 of the journey. The (motel) room is basic, clean, comfortable, small/cozy. It feels clean energetically and is without the haunting traumas.
As I exit Apartment G — as in g for ghosts? — for the final time, I do so adhering to the advice of a woman (also) attuned to vibrations of a space: While closing the door, I toss sea salt (a purifier) over my shoulder into the apartment, through the hallway, out the side door and until I reach the car, repeating: “Spirits do not follow me.”
Also on her advice, I do not look back. I seat myself in the Subaru, note the time – 9:54 a.m. – and drive up the slope with nary a blip of a peripheral glance toward apartment or building.
A metal rattling emanating from the rear inside the car — what is that?! Listening to that’ll drive me crazy!
I pull over into a parking lot just before the the freeway on-ramp, search the structure of luggage for the source. Two metal hangers striking each other of the garment bag containing all five good items in my wardrobe! – ha.
Fix done and I’m officially on my way. 10:00 a.m., July 4.
At approximately 3:10 p.m.:
Rolling green hills greet me, a striking contrast to the landscape wisely left in the rear-view mirror:
In a pledge made long ago to the self, stones from the landscape and gemstones from my collection placed during a private ritual mark where I sat just across the border: