2.1.21 :: Intuitive Intentions

After living out of two fat suitcases for three weeks, I came home only to immediately begin the cull. Tiny toiletries. Beat-up sneakers you can fold in half. Scarfs and blankets the cats have burrowed into beyond repair because, in this home, we can't have nice things. (See: All glassware.)

There's a Nor'easter on the horizon. Buckets of snow about to be dumped on us. And I'm trying my darndest to maintain my island momentum--in mind, in heart, in fantastically soft skin that is crying out for the Pacific to come back! To rescue me from the dry heat of this Boston apartment. 

But, alas. 3,000 miles from my mint green sea we are.

It feels so strange to be home. To look in the my pink bathroom mirror and see tanned me. Changed me. The me who crept to the edge of the Grand Canyon and devoured Din Tai Fung and star gazed from a Honolulu highway with the top down.

To begin scheduling affairs and cooking and...life. How?

In the valley, it was get up, eat something wholesome, drive off for hours on end without a clear destination. Test the limits of fear from the top of the mountain to its deep belly. In Hawaii, it was get up, eat something decadent, drop your crap on the beach, and toss yourself into the arms of the waves for however long you like. There is no pruning in the ocean. She doesn't allow it. So you're safe from any timer telling you it's time to go. At night, shower off the sandy bits, but keep the sunshine on your skin. Wring the water from your suit, but keep the promise to her that we'll do it all again tomorrow.

Tomorrow in Boston means work. A 10:00 meeting on Monday morning. How to inject flexibility and dream making and screen-less bliss into my Outlook...I'm figuring it out.

Because just as I don't want to forget all I embraced on the West Coast, I also don't want to take this life for granted while reluctantly gliding to the end of my vacation crest.  

Yes, the kittens' adoring attention is everything. Yes, quarantine will end soon and I won't have to palm kiss Liz through the screen door. Yes, winter is half over! Hooray! And spring will be here before we know it.

But before I flip the calendar to February, I want to make a bigger plan. Unscheduled, but meaningful. Letting my intuition guide me. Letting each destination fill my cup like a long drive on the lush Pali Highway. 

Stay tuned. Stay safe. And share your intentions for 2021 (or 2022 or 2023!) if you've got 'em. 
xx

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