Snow Day

I have come to realize that life is extremely busy. My days are typically structured, and vary little in activities. I get up for work in the mornings, methodically eat a bowl of cereal, pour too much cream in my coffee, get dressed, and go to work. Even my job is thoroughly predictable. I give 5-9 pedicures everyday to all different types of women. Some of them fascinate me, others frustrate me, but all of them make me think. Often I like to pretend that every woman that I spend an hour with in my day is a possible projection of myself 40 years down the road. I sit and scrub their feet as they talk to me about their opinions on a gamut of topics: The oil spill, adoption, the war, Angelina Jolie's lips, and my favorite, the choices they have made in life. Although I have yet to understand why, many of these women consistently tell reasonably private information, many times bordering on a form of confession.

They tell their stories of multiple marriages, travels, mistakes and success, and relationships. Their voices gradually take on a narrative feel as they regurgitate the composition of their life. It is shocking to me still, how a large number of these women end their stories in a peculiarly uniform way. It is summed up in almost always the same exact sentences. They will stop talking abruptly, stare blankly, and say: "funny, it seems like all of that was just yesterday. It's Lex, right? Well Lex, enjoy this time because it'll be over before ya know it." After this, I smile, ask if they would like some quick dry oil, wish them a great day, and help gather their belongings. On my less cynical days, these precious interactions make me aware of the rapid rate at which life drives, and how it pulls us all along with it.

Today, mother nature has forced me to slow down and change my daily regimen. I slept late, ate homemade muffins, poured the perfect amount of cream in my coffee, piled on pounds of clothing, and went for a walk in an absolute snow storm with my mom, sister, and two dogs. I am now sipping a cup of hot tea. If we allow it to be, life can be astoundingly simple.

Washington State... of Mind.

There is a very significant difference in running away and getting away as far as I’m concerned. Today marks 36 days until I leave. Leave a mainstream way of thinking and living. Leave a comfortable home where each night of winter is not without a hot meal, and a hot fire. Leave a world in which the hours between 9 o’clock and 5 o’clock are filled with filing, working, busy people; doing everything in their power to make ends meet, or to surpass an obscure bar that measures their own success as well as that of everyone around them. I am leaving this devastatingly cozy space voluntarily to plunge into a similar, yet different world. In this world, there will be times at which I will be very uncomfortable and probably very cold. I will be challenged mentally, physically, and emotionally and will embrace new concepts, ideas, and thoughts, and hug more closely, old ones. My world here is safe, and warm, and snuggly.

I am a Florida native. Why in the world, one might ask, would I want to go to a place where it snows beyond belief, and rains more, to spend several months with some simplistically far out people? The answer is really a trifle. Because. I am going to Washington State because I can. I exist in this world and I move and shift with it. The problem with this, is that i'm finding that the world is astoundingly large and I feel as though my view should match its vastness. I might go and fail in a tremendous way. I might touch down in this strange land of Cascades and coastline, take in one deep breath of the crisp, icy, new air, and say to myself, "What have I done." I might go and learn, or perhaps I will go and teach. There are many uncertainties when submitting yourself wholly into the unknown divine. However, one thing is for certain: Go, I will. I will scrounge for my own meals. I will fall asleep in strange places to quiet snowfall, and awake to the smell of a day free of an agenda, and coffee, of course. I will tighten my laces, open my eyes, and walk until I am tired. I will have long talks with my beautiful big brother, and I will ask him to tell me stories of his life, and I will soak in his love and his spirit of adventure. I will sing and clap my hands as Rosie plays her guitar. There might be days when I am hungry or cold or frustrated. There will be days when I will doubt the whole thing all together. My responsibilities will consist of feeding myself, clothing myself, and exploring this incredible country, for that is my duty in this adventure of mine.

For a season, I am leaving behind those that I love and things that I cherish to grow and stretch my arms, palms open, to what I might receive. I am leaving a few responsibilities untended to, but I’m quite sure they will wait, earnestly for me to return. Responsibility has a way of doing that. I might even miss it, although I’m not counting on that. I will return and fulfill my commitments. I will do things that I do not want to do, because it is a means to an end. I will slowly find my way again back into the flowing stream of filing, working, busy people. But until then, I will pack a bag, take off my makeup, release inhabitations, and expectations, and answer the small timid voice of curiosity. For my very life depends on it.