in the soles of my feet i rise

When I returned to the US after a two month hiatus through Europe and Africa, living off the pack on my back, I was overwhelmed by the stuff I had. The first day I got to wear something other than the two outfits I had been wearing for the last sixty days, it felt so wrong on my body. I went into the closet in my grandma’s guest bedroom and just stared at my clothes, not recognizing myself in any of them. I’ve always liked clothes. What I wear depends hugely on my mood and generally I do not own anything that I do not use or feel comfortable in.

Before I lost my airstream, the only space that was mine was my car. It was my bed when I had none. My kitchen when I couldn’t find a diner. My cozy comfort of a living space. When I sold my car before leaving Oregon, I felt so fresh and free. I thought it would be harder for me. That car had taken me through so much in just three years. It was the car I bought right before my first travel nurse contract in Maine—purchased on a whim from a random dealer, in classic mads fashion. I have slept more times in that vehicle, seat belts jabbing into my sides and scratchy cloth rubbing at my skin, than I care to remember. But when I sold it, I felt like it was right. I was free of one less “thing” in this world.

I had such a system in how I packed and unpacked everything in my car. It was honestly flawless. And I got so damn fast at repeating it every couple months that it didn’t seem to phase me. Now, after not having done that for over a year and a half, as well as not owning a car, I feel all over the place. As though my hands are having to remember a skill that they thought they were blessed to forget. And fuck, I feel like the slowest learner out there right now. I am not patient with myself nor am I an unproductive, chaotic packer, but oof my grandma’s basement right now is chaos. So I donated over half of my clothes and a good three fourths of random belongings that were crowding my life and I felt lighter. After living for so long with so little, getting by with only what I could carry, I realized you honestly do not need as much as we have. And to have less is to actually have more.

I do not know where a good chunk of my things are, even the ones that are most precious to me, and that often leaves me feeling sloshy with unease. The yucky feeling that tries to tell you you can’t live everywhere and still belong somewhere. To live a nomadic and chaotic life like mine creates this idea in a lot of people that I am just a tornado of hi’s and bye’s. That I haven’t yet mastered the ability to belong, or the ability to stay and show up and be present for people. In which case I have and will continue to make the argument that it is the exact opposite of who I am. I have a soul that loves to roam for the main reason being that I love to meet new people. I have mastered the ability of present minded living so that when I am present, I know I can say that I truly am.

My dopamine levels were off the charts when I was walking across Spain. I spent my days with incredible, genuine, adventurous, funny, and kind people. Now, I’ve spent more time alone in the past week than I have in years, honestly. It’s another skill that I feel I need to reteach myself, not just my hands but my heart as well. But that’s okay. The camino left me with fuzzy remnants of joy and wonder, it led me back into my most authentic self. And while I wrestle with a lot of unnecessary stressors from the months before the camino, nothing and no one can take away those memories and those feelings that are imbedded within the soles of my healing feet.