Beware the geographic cure

So much has changed in the last few years. Divisive politics. The strain of loneliness. A pandemic. A devastating wildfire that evacuated me for nearly a week. There’s been joy too — awakening, community, writing. But times like these try our patience and our souls. New wounds callous over and ache for healing.

My work calls me to hold the tension between the future we hope for and the reality we live in. To offer people a bridge between those two places requires emotional labor. It’s taxing. After almost five years, it has finally caught up with me.

I didn’t plan to get divorced in the middle of it either, but here I am, forty-eight years old, single again, fully vaccinated and utterly exhausted.

When the papers got signed, I started packed my bags.

Not long after, a quote I stumbled upon hit me between the eyes: “Beware the geographic cure.” I know that flinging myself to far-off places isn’t a fix for what ails me. Wherever I go, I still take my particular set of bags along, stuffed with foibles, regrets, and unsolved pain. We all do. No matter how long that baggage spins around the carousel, they keep returning.

As I booked flights, a spiritual friend asked me, “Is this a trip you’re planning… or a pilgrimage?”

And I knew. Immediately. A sensation of deep knowing fluttered in my gut. It is the latter. I am once again a pilgrim.

Even though I’ll spend the next three months hopping my way across two continents, the locations are inconsequential. What matters are the souls I’m going to meet in each place. I will make stops to see the people my heart calls home — friends and family who I haven’t hugged in far too long.

  • Portland, Oregon: Nancy and Julia
  • Fort Wayne, Indiana: Marissa, Sally, and Steve
  • Traverse City, Michigan: Kate
  • Danbury and Farmington, Connecticut: Kathy, Jerry, Mark, Amy, Olivia, and Laura; with possible walk ons from Lea and Jen
  • Galway, Ireland: Ger and her family

The one exception is my hope to walk in Ireland solo for about 10 days. Or maybe it’s not an exception. I’d like alone time with my own heart as I learn to be my own best friend.

And I’m taking you, dear reader, along with me including photos, stories, and insights. So if you care to read about what’s out there and what’s in here, watch this space. Your pilgrim friend is back.

Buen camino!

6 thoughts on “Beware the geographic cure

  1. Beautiful, Jen. Your openness and readiness are genuinely inspiring! I’m especially excited about your plan to walk with your best friend for 10 days. 🤗😍

  2. Oh I am so glad you’re back! I’ve always loved your insightful and honest storytelling. I am interested in both what’s out there and what’s in here. Have a magical trip. Hug hard and often; fill up your hugs tanks. And find the joy in you again. I know you will.
    Hugs from me
    Alison xox

    1. Thanks.
      I’ve wondered if the Crowded House song lyrics “wherever you go, always take the weather with you”, were relayed to taking a geographic cure “. I wonder .
      Happy trails to you.

  3. The world a mad place at the moment and it’s and very unpredictable, I’ve also found myself single at 49 next month. But seeing things with new eyes doing the things I love and rediscovered my art which never really surfaced in a relationship I’m now living my best life surrounded by wonderful people and painting my Camino landscapes from 2018 trip. Hang in there you never know what the Camino and it’s family will provide for you.
    Look forward to reading more about your trips

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