Exactly two months ago today I landed in LA, and exactly one month ago today, I left LA. Happy anniversary to me.

Before I’d even given notice at work, informed the landlord I was moving, or packed the first box, I told myself that I’d look at this as a sort of experiment, that nothing needs to be taken too seriously and that there are no right or wrong choices here. All I knew then was that I was certain I had to move back to Los Angeles.

Well, right now I can say with certainty that I can’t say a damn thing with certainty. LA was the plan, the obsession, for the past 16 years and now here I am, plopped 80 miles north in a small Southern California town nestled in the mountains at the base of the Los Padres National Forest where I came knowing pretty much exactly no one.

Instead of falling asleep to the sound of helicopters, buses and late night neighbors, I crack the window so I can hear owls, and frogs, and coyotes. Instead of fulfilling an obsession that’s as old as most of my friends’ children, (and just as nurtured through the years I might add) I’ve somehow veered off course toward something that is a little bit more out of my control than I am used to acknowledging.

And you know what? I think I like it. I’ve tried so hard for so long to control things, to keep them in order, to put them where I want them to be, and it really hasn’t worked very well. Because I’m increasingly of the belief that we are spiritual beings here on earth to have a human experience ~ not the other way around, I’ve decided to tweak the experiment  ~ sort of hand the reins over and give in to this natural flow. I’m going to continue to watch as one road leads to another, leads to another, leads to another . . .  and see where it goes.

It’s a bit of a different mindset for me because it’s the first time that my heart and my soul have been a little at odds: my heart misses the ease of meeting people in LA, the feeling that I’m comfortable in my own skin there, the idea that LA is where I belong. At times I want to bolt. My soul, on the other hand, keeps whispering, no. Stay here. You will see. When you know about the history and beliefs of this valley, it’s not hard to believe that in some psychic sense, I’ve come home.

It’s not all been easy, though I am finding it difficult explain. What I can say is this: There is an undercurrent of energy that runs through me like a river, and if I have to name, it, I call it fear. I am fearful. I have felt it for years. And it has held me back. And I have totally screwed up.

I’ve lived in fear’s house, worn its clothes, slept in its bed, and raised its babies. I’ve drunk it, eaten it, bathed in its waters, soaked in its rays, and buried myself in its soil. I realized yesterday just how easy it has been to let it manipulate me. I realized today just how well I’ve been able to use it to protect myself. From what?

From LIFE.

I know full well that you can’t live out loud if you’re scared to live, and I don’t mean moving across country and taking risks and being independent. Those are important too, but what I’m talking about is being courageous enough to stop all the psychic, intellectual and physical movement and really be in the moment with yourself  ~ just yourself . . . no food, no alcohol, no blankie, no exercise, no work. No excuses. Alone. In the moment. Psychically raw, spiritually naked. And like it.

And from there, to be in the moment with someone else.

For me, doing that means giving up some ghosts, so to speak. It means I’ve got to finally quite waiting for the other shoe to drop, I’ve got to allow myself to be vulnerable and unguarded, I’ve got to forget what I learned as a kid over 40 years ago ~ that nothing is permanent ~ and embrace people into my life as though they will be there forever, fate be damned.

Because if I don’t, I’ll keep them just far enough away that I’ll continue to live as though I am alone.

And while I can’t say much right now, I can finally say one thing with certainty.

I no longer want that.