I had never lived in the same address for so long before. Seven years is my current record.
And if you think that’s not a lot of time, well, I didn’t have as much time with my dad. He died when I was five, and to this day, I hold on to the the few flimsy memories I have of him.
I won’t extend myself on the sob story, but I mentioned it because it helps my point: my relationship with permanence, be it places or people, has always been… temporary. From the get go, I’ve always been accutely aware of how one day you wake up, and someone important is gone, forever.
Yes, all of life is temporary.
But there’s a kind of stability that was never part of my life, and which I had not yet experienced.
A whole of seven years living in one place gave me a new appreciation for both staying and going. I learned about what I am and what I am not. I learned what I really need and what I can’t go without. I learned to be by myself without being completely alone in the world.
When you’re set, life moves quite slowly.
You have more time to ponder, to decide, to enjoy, to figure things out.
More importantly for a writer, when you stay put, you get time to read, to absorb, to savor every moment without rushing. And to write badly. To stare at the blank page. And to sit with the void of your own soul.
But, if you’re always going, the story is quite different.
So I came to understand things about me, and I came to accept that I much prefer to be on the move. At least from time to time.
Renewing, shedding, purging, testing, losing, missing… The ING of it makes my heart beat faster, and it makes me want to get GOING.
I do not care where. The way there, no matter the destination, is what I crave. The changes. Time slipping by. A chance to look at things in hindsight.
Even though I appreciate my new outlook on rootness, I don’t think it’s what I’m made of.
And, I can’t stop thinking about The Tree of Life, also known as The Root Cave, in Forks, Washington.
This tree has been holding on for dear life for decades. The ground underneath it has been eroded by high tides and storms.
And it won’t give up. Its roots—or should I say claws?, now extend to the sides, since down is no longer an option.
Its roots, being meant to be fixed to the ground, now works to keep it from hitting it, such is the adaptability of life.
And speaking of options, I can’t stop wondering: if this tree could choose, WOULD IT STAY THERE? I know, the view is astonishingly beautiful, and each sunset is a special gift from the skies. But…
Would it keep fighting to stay in that spot if it could just go and find a better spot? Or is it exactly the “bad” spot that makes this tree so special?
If it could, would it simple get up and find other places to be? Maybe see the sunrise on the east coast? Or find a nice fertile ground overlooking mountains and valleys and turquoise lakes?
I don’t know about her…
But I’m glad I have no roots.
I leave Seattle tomorrow, March 12th, and I head south, towards California. Stay Tuned!
Now to a fun idea this Tree has given me.
While on my trip, I’m choosing some of my best pictures and making exclusive postcards to mail to my biggest supporters (Founding Members/Co-pilots).
The first batch could only have a picture of The Tree of Life taken by me, and a quote by John Steinbeck (who, as you might know, was my inspirations for this literary tour of the US).
Thanks for coming along with me on this adventure!
Talk to you soon,
Cris :)
I'm waiting for my postcard🤩