The thing about long road trips is there is a lot of thinking time. Gazing out the window, passing trucks (well usually being passed by trucks), mountains, rivers, and now desert rocks here in Utah; pondering the meaning of life and what we should have for dinner and what should I do in December and maybe I should get a real job but maybe I could go to Thailand?
Sometimes I worry about being a wandering wanderer, about not saving the world, not meditating enough, not drawing enough not writing enough not drinking enough water.
But then- I find myself sitting underneath a giant arch made of red soft sandstone, that under the night sky is silouetted black against the bright bright starry sky. It’s silent but for crickets and the occasional rumble of the highway in the distance, and all I see is stars.
I breathe in, breathe out.
And maybe that’s enough, sometimes; often. Just to be, just to breathe, just to be happy and grateful to be in these places. Some day maybe I will draw them, maybe I’ll write about them. Sometimes you can make someone else happy with a smile, with a word, with a letter. Maybe that’s saving the world in small slow ways. (I hope so).
(Really do need to drink more water though)
(Also, Utah is awesome! Biking and climbing and star gazing and rappelling off giant arches and swinging into the abyss and bare feet and blue skies and red rocks)