At least that’s sorta how the adage goes.
When last we were together I’d just uprooted from my time on the Front Range (which lasted a couple of weeks longer than I’d planned), and I was heading into the wilds of the Sangre de Cristo mountains in south western Colorado, but based on my late departure from the republic of Boulder, it looked like I’d be getting to, and setting up camp about evening time, which as readers might know, can be a bit of a challenge. So as the day was coming to a close, I pulled off onto county road 315 outside of Buena Vista, and assembled my home for a few days that followed. Because winter’s coming, and I have no boots, DeMonika kindly said she’d send me mine, as long as I lurked here long enough to receive mail.
So once those arrive, I’ll be heading onto somewhere else, but I’ll only know for sure when I get there.
But at least I’ll have boots.
To summarize in a visual style, and for anyone who cares, I’ll now regurgitate what days 106 to 112 looked like through my lens;
As I put the final period on this post, I can’t help but reflect on lessons I’m learning over the course of my journey, some of which are digestible, but most of which are not. I’ve been reading books, talking to friends, meditating, listening to binaural beats, keeping an open mind to the universe’s plan, trying not to question too much, or cross bridges before I arrive to them. It occurred to me not so very long ago that I very likely won’t know what the upshot of everything that’s happening now is for at least a year.