Updated: Aug 22, 2021
What the F*@k, Universe? Ever have that moment in life when it seems everything you've built starts to fall apart? All of this work that you've put into constructing this astounding edifice gets pulled apart and knocked down in one fell swoop? About a month ago, I felt that way... Again. My father was in the hospital, my love life had taken a nosedive into oblivion and my career path was fogging up the windows of my life like two lovesick teenagers at make out point. I felt like I had built up so much momentum in the previous months, so I couldn't understand why it all just disappeared in a matter of days. As I sat in the hospital room with my father post heart surgery, not sure if he would make it through the night, something shifted in me. Normally, when chaos happens in my life I get in my head about it, trying to determine all the ways I can fix and control it, but with my Father's health, all I could do was show up with love and be present. I sat by his bedside, tears streaming down my face, and he asked why I was so sad. Oh there were so many answers to that question, but the words that came out (mostly in an effort to distract us both from the tubes and machines connected to his body) were: "It is so much harder to take the road less traveled."
We spoke for a great amount of time about this concept. He told me stories of his career path paired with his adventurous solo journeys. I'd grown up really only seeing my dad as Dr. Chandler, a strong successful "bone Doctor" ("orthopedic" was a bit of a mouth full for my childhood self), a businessman, a providing father and loving husband. I hadn't known much about his tastes for the road less traveled. I had been toying with the idea of traveling to Santa Cruz for the weekend, but with him in the hospital, I felt guilt. I've learned over this last year, you have to take care of you in order to take care of others. Something he said that night reassured me that I would go on my journey up north because he wasn't going away. I left the hospital that night confident in the fact that it wasn't my last goodbye, but if it had been, I'd had nailed it.
That weekend, as he turned the corner to the road of recovery and returned back to my childhood house, I ventured up to Santa Cruz for an unforgettable weekend. Had I not embarked on that journey, gone through all those ebbs and flows, I would not be where I am now, a month later. I've decided to continue on the road less taken, back up to Santa Cruz to live for the summer. I have no real game plan other than to keep showing up with an open heart, listening ears, level head, playful spirit and curious mind. My overall goal in life is to live everyday to the fullest and inspire others to do so, and my journey up North just feels right. Since I made this decision and began to tell my loved ones, the questions I have been getting sound like: "Do you have a job? What are you going to do for money? Do you have a plan? What exactly will you do there? How will you support yourself?"
And as a recovering over-planner, I'm going to stick with the fact that every time I keep my plans loose, with only somewhat of a road map, magic happens. So my plan for the summer is to nail it, while sharing my experience with others. For me, my life is wasted if I'm not testing the limits of my comfort zone and sharing those experiences with all who surround me. Until next time. Curious.