Obsessions of a Wandering Mind

A single flame lights my desk as I pull out my supplies. A sheet of ecru cotton paper sits in front of me, waiting to be filled. Dipping my glass pen into the sepia ink, I think of another time, a time when writing letters was commonplace. Still, I enjoy my quirky habit, I love the feel of the glass nib as it scratches across the paper. I love to think carefully of each word before I place it permanently, or occasionally to let my thoughts flow as fast and freely as the ink.

I can feel the cold air from outside creeping in as I begin to write, but it does not phase me; I am warmed from within. It doesn't truly matter what I put, so long as it is what I am feeling at the time. You will not care if the language is poetic and romantic, or if it is the colloquial speech I use everyday. What matters is that the letter is full of my thoughts, and that those thoughts are for you. Tonight I am feeling particularly old fashioned, so I ramble on in a wistful fashion, slowly filling the page with my slanting script. Though you are far away, I feel connected to you when I write. The loneliness is not so overwhelming when I speak to you through ink.

And then the end of the page arrives. I am not yet ready to say goodbye, but the call of my nearby bed is stronger than that of the paper...at least tonight. But first, before I drift off to see you in my dreams, I must place the finishing touches. I carefully add a scent the to the page; the smell you will forever associate with me fills the room, bergamot with a touch of sandalwood. Setting aside the page to dry, I turn to the envelope. I carefully scribe your name on the front and begin to think. Perhaps a bible verse on love, but no...not tonight. Tonight I chose the lyrics to a song, for my heart is full of song this evening. I transcribe a verse from a love song to my envelope. After the ink dries I insert my note and seal the envelope. Using green wax and a brass wax seal, I mark the letter with my mark a celtic trinity knot.

I get up, placing the letter by the door, and putting away my things. I blow out the candle, letting the smoke fill the room. The note is finished. My love never will be.

I'll start with the obvious...shiny new blog layout! Yay! I've been feeling the writing itch over the last few weeks, but decided that wanting my blog to look cool took precedence over actually writing anything. Still, there has been a subject burning on my mind lately and it seems like it's popping up everywhere I look. With that, let's move on.

Sean recently posted a link to an article on something called Sunk Coast Bias. I won't go into depth here about what the article says, as it's only loosely related to my main point, but it is what got my mind churning a bit. The gist of the article is that personal improvement is hindered when we sink our efforts into tasks and relationships simply because we have a prior commitment to them or have been doing them for a long time. The author implies that we should pursue the path that brings us the most fulfillment, regardless of previous time/money invested or if we've made a prior commitment. This is a very rough summary of a fairly long article. But one particular part (point 3) of this article caught my attention: "After we decide to do something, we feel attached to what we committed to. And the bigger the commitment, the harder it is to let go." The author then goes on to tout the concept of living only in the present. I have several problems with this philosophy, the biggest being what this attitude means for relationships.

If you've been following the celeb/gossip rags lately (let's hope you haven't) then you will have heard about the dissolution of the marriage between TV couple Jon and Kate. Now I don't care about Jon and Kate, what I do care about is a statement made by Kate, "It doesn't matter where Jon and I are in our relationship, my kids still matter most to me." I'm sure most people read this statement and see nothing wrong with it. I read this statement and am shocked and infuriated...mostly because people see nothing wrong with this outlook. Why do I see something wrong with it...and what does this have to do with the previous paragraph?

What I really want to talk about here is love, but not just love, love in a committed or married relationship. I know, what would I know about marriage or real love? Well, I've been in two committed relationships, was once engaged, and I've been a primary witness to my parents 25+ year marriage. I'd say that makes me at least a little qualified.

I am so fed up with this society where we are so focused on ourselves and our own happiness and fulfillment. Don't get me wrong, I want to be as happy and fulfilled as the next person, but that's not my main goal in life. How many marriages could be saved if the people in them were more concerned about their spouse than about themselves. A parent shouldn't put their kids first (gasp!), they should put their spouse first, and then their kids. If Mom and Dad are in a good marriage, the children will be far more likely to be content and taken care of. A person shouldn't be in a serious relationship and pursuing their own bliss, but should be seeking to create bliss for the other person, that's true love...they might be surprised when the other person reciprocates. Now, I'm not going to pretend, even for a second, that this is easy. It's hard, seemingly impossibly hard at times, but who ever said that love should be easy. Love isn't easy, love is a choice, and I'm tired of society trivializing it into a simple feeling.

It's no wonder so many marriages don't last, we are so focused on ourselves that our commitments no longer matter. We are constantly chasing a fleeting feeling instead of working to achieve a love that will last through the deepest of struggles. we always seek to find that which gives us a feeling of contentment instead of working at creating that fulfillment in our commitments. I was furious when I read this article that said Governor Sanford should leave his wife for the woman he had an affair with. (On a side note, the author of the above article spends the whole article saying that "love" trumps all and marriage vows are essentially pointless, yet ends by saying that the governor should change his views on gay marriage...excuse me, how does that work?!) How will him leaving his wife make things better? The governor once felt feelings of love for his wife, what's to say his feelings for this other woman won't eventually change as well? What is the point of marriage vows if you are simply going to leave once the other person "doesn't make you happy anymore?"

Love isn't easy, love isn't supposed to be easy. Love is more than a feeling, it's an action, a commitment, it's putting the needs and desires of another person before your own. Love is choosing to stay with a person and care for them despite their failings and faults, not simply because of their positive attributes. The amazing thing is, that when you start putting another person first, they will often begin to do the same. The action of love is one of the hardest things you will ever do, but the benefits are more than you could ever imagine.

EDIT (7/21): This is the sort of love between a husband and wife that I'm talking about: Tammy and the Doctors. (Unfortunately, I feel I should warn people before they click that this is a very Christian blog entry.) Tammy is a friend of my mother and this blog is written by her husband. Tammy has lukemia.

In a few weeks it will have been a year since my last post. And man...what a year it's been. I'm not really sure why I stopped writing; I know that I was busy with my last semester of school, and then there was a new job to focus on. However, I don’t think it was just the business of my life that stopped my writing, I think I was finally being fulfilled by my relationships. Writing has always been an outlet for me that usually takes place when I'm feeling trapped in my own mind, it is a way to express things that I can’t express in other ways. When I found myself being fulfilled by other things, the need to write evaporated. It's strange then, that I find myself motivated to write this morning, as I am more fulfilled now than I have been in a very long time.

I will not attempt to fully recap this past year, as so very much has happened, and the people most likely to read this will have been present for the majority of the events. Looking back at the last few posts of my blog it is hard not to see how far I have come since then, and I suppose I just don't want to leave those posts as the only document of my mental and emotional state. I want to make some sort of effort to document the changes that have taken place in me. I am so much happier and together now, and that is something worth sharing.

When I last posted I was on the cusp of a change in how I interacted with others. I must say my relationships became so much richer and meaningful after taking that plunge. I still maintained a certain level of my characteristic guardedness (you can't change the self-preservation habits of a lifetime), but I felt more connected to others than I had in a very long time.

I also managed to break out of my shell in other ways, like starting to sing on my church's worship team. This is something I wanted to do for a very long time, but lacked the courage to pursue. Music speaks to me in a way that nothing else does, and to be able to share that love of music with others by singing publicly is a wonderful thing. A few weeks before deciding to audition I had a bizarre experience I still remember perfectly. At the end of a church service the people who had been sitting in front of me turned around and said something that blew my mind. they said, "thank you for stting behind us today; you have a beautiful voice and it was a real blessing to hear you sing." No one has every said anything like that before or since and it touched my soul to hear it. It gave me the boost I needed to pursue my desire of helping lead others in worship. Singing has been a true blessing to me, helping my self-esteem, courage, and bringing me closer to God and fellow believers.

Some milestone events took place this past year as well. I graduated college, got a new full-time job, and bought my first car. These events, in and of themselves, mean nothing, but what they represent means everything. I've finally made it, I am now a fully independent adult. Somehow, I've grown up, and most importantly, I've thrived.

Oh, don't get me wrong, there were some tough times this past year, but I grew through them and am (hopefully) a better person for it.

The summer and the times following were some of the most amazing of all for me. I found myself growing closer in some of my relationships in ways I hadn't thought possible. People like Ron, Sean, Jess, and Erin became more important to me than ever before. I was finally opening up and becoming comfortable sharing who I really was with some people who had never seen that side of me.

I debated sharing this here (despite my personal growth I’m still a very guarded individual), but how can I not share one of the biggest reasons for my current happiness. I never intended for it to happen, I had no idea I'd healed enough to even consider it, but it really was about time. After months (maybe years) of avoiding my feelings for Ron I find myself in an incredible relationship with him. It's incredible if only because it happened. Who knew two people could dance around one another so obviously for so long without doing anything? But the healing that has taken place in my heart since starting to date Ron is astonishing. I am in love, and it is a miraculous thing.

It's amazing what can happen when you take a chance. Almost a year ago I decided to try reaching out to others in true friendship, now I have found a deep contentment in who I am. I have an amazing group of friends, an incredible boyfriend, and my relationship with God is no longer stagnant but growing strongly. I have truly been blessed. Now I strive to be a blessing to others, like they have been to me.

(The song I chose for the title of this post is by Relient K and I think it sums up my current state of mind pretty well. Even though the video isn't great this is the only video I found with good sound.)

I know I haven't written in a while, but I've been lacking in both time and motivation. In an effort to get something posted again I've decided to break format for a little bit. I recently revised one of my old stories for my Sci-Lit final and would like to share it here. I realize that stories don't tend to get responses, but that's not why I blog anyway. I think people will appreciate this story better if they understand what it means to me. The plot was first conceived when I was feeling very lonely and out of place. The main character, Rhiana, is obviously modeled after myself during that time in my life. I often wished to escape my own life and have something fantastic happen. (Well, let's be honest...sometimes I still do.) Much has changed in my life since I fist wrote "Taken by the Wind." With the new revision I tried to remove myself from the story, while still connecting with the tale. This story has come to mean a lot to me and I wanted to share it here. It's rather long, but I hope you all will take the time to read it, and hopefully enjoy it!

Rhiana McCoy cranked up the volume on her radio; it wasn’t so much that she liked the song as she was trying to tune out the thoughts in her head. Each summer, Rhiana, a 25-year-old history student, took a break from research and made a trip home for a few weeks. Her latest trip had opened her eyes to certain things about herself that she’d been denying for quite some time. Now, cruising down an empty I-70 in “Middle of Nowhere,” Kansas, those revelations were clamoring for attention.

“No one can relate to you anymore, Rhi! It’s no wonder you have no real friends."

Rhiana flicked off the radio in frustration as her brother’s words blasted through the shroud of calm she’d been trying to construct. The worst part about the argument had been that every cruel and biting word her brother had said was true.

Rhiana was a girl born into an era to which she didn’t belong. As a child, she had listened to vinyl albums on her parents’ record player. When she got her first car, a psychedelically painted ’65 Volkswagen Beetle, she didn’t groan over how it was falling apart, but gushed over the vintage vehicle as if it were a brand new Porsche. She didn’t know the first thing about current pop culture, but she could spout off obscure facts about the 70s as though she’d lived through them. It was only natural that she would study history in college. She was currently working on her PhD in American history at Yale, and it took up a majority of her time. She was more likely to be found doing research in the library than going out with other people. It wasn’t news to her that no one could relate to her, because she couldn’t relate to anyone else either.

Rhiana stared out at the empty road, her mind drifting back to a particular afternoon, not long ago, that she spent holed up in the library.


It had been raining all day, and her nook of the library had never felt cozier. Her iPod streamed out familiar songs; Rhiana was perfectly content with her music and books. Who needs to socialize anyway; people are boring, Rhiana thought to herself. She was bent over a text about Vietnam, specifically the soldiers. Rhiana’s thesis was on the relationship between the Vietnam protest groups and the soldiers who had fought there—a far more complex subject than she originally expected. Rhiana flipped the page to reveal a large picture of an anti-war protest taking place outside a hanger where soldiers were returning. Rhiana could almost feel the anger that showed on the faces of the protesters. She reached out to touch the small, printed figures. As her fingers made contact with the paper, Rhiana noticed a sudden increase in the sound of the music coming from her iPod. More strangely, however, was that the music didn't seem to be coming from her headphones.

Rhiana sat completely still; every nerve in her body focused on the sounds around her. Underneath the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son” was a rhythmic roar that reminded Rhiana of a chanting crowd; this was odd, because she had never been near a chanting crowd in her life. Without realizing it Rhiana slowly stood, as if to join the people she heard more clearly with each passing moment. Suddenly, following the sound of a sharp crack, silence descended on Rhiana. A deep feeling of loss and confusion filled her as she looked around for the source of the crack. It was her iPod, which had fallen to the ground after she stood up.

Picking up the fallen iPod, Rhiana slowly sat back down. She turned her attention back to the book and turned the page, trying to quash the rising feelings of loss and loneliness that occurred when she looked at the picture of chanting protesters.


Snapping out of her reverie, Rhiana focused briefly on the road in front of her before her thoughts started drifting again. The feelings of loneliness she had felt in the library that day were nothing compared to how alone Rhiana had felt the moment she pulled out of her family’s driveway. At least at home, her parents accepted their daughter’s quirky interests. Back at Yale, she had next to nothing to look forward to; she was a social outcast, just like her brother had implied.

Still, Rhiana thought, if someone can’t accept me for who I am, then they aren’t worth my time. The words rang hollow, even inside her head; nevertheless, determined to put the depressing thoughts out of her mind for the moment, she flicked the radio back on, getting lost in the music of an era more than 30 years in the past.

When “her” song came on the air a few minutes later, Rhiana couldn’t help but smile. Her parents had named her for the Fleetwood Mac song “Rhiannon,” as a tribute to the band that had been playing at the concert where the two met. Rhiana couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentedness every time she heard the song.

Her eyes fixed on the road, Rhiana began to sing along, knowing the words by heart. When she came to the words “A woman—taken by the wind,” a sudden feeling of nausea washed over her. A flush of heat accompanied the general feeling of sickness, and for a brief moment Rhiana felt she was going to pass out. The music blared too loudly in her ears for the brief moment of complete disorientation, and then—like the flip of a switch—it was all over.

“What the hell?” Rhiana swore out loud, quickly adjusting her steering wheel. For once she was relieved that the roads in Kansas were as straight as a ruler and as barren of traffic as the surrounding area was of sentient life. She briefly acknowledged that the song on the radio had suddenly changed, but it was at that point that she noticed the hitchhiker.

She’d never in her life stopped for a hitchhiker, so why she stopped now she really couldn’t explain. She felt a sudden urgency to stop for this man, as if it was the most important thing she could ever do. The disorientation of moments before seemed to come back. The sound of the radio increased loudly in her ears. The sound of the static became more apparent. Her field of vision seemed limited to that of the hitchhiker. Everything else faded in comparison. Slowing down to stop as she passed him, she couldn’t help but notice that he was a fairly attractive man—possibly only a little older than herself. Still feeling disoriented, she shoved open the door to get out. I need some fresh air, that’s all...just don’t throw up, Rhiana thought as she stumbled out of her car. Suddenly she stopped to think briefly about her appearance and the sort of first impression it made. She thought of how outlandish she looked; a bell-bottomed jeans-wearing blond with Farrah-Faucet wings, driving a psychedelic bug.

Rhiana noticed the hitchhiker coming toward her. The first thing that popped into her head when she got a good glimpse of him was, He looks like Burt Reynolds in “Smoky and the Bandit.” Mentally slapping herself upside the head, she put on her most charming smile.

“Looking for a ride?” Nice, Rhi. How much more cliché can you get? She winced internally at her unoriginal greeting. “Burt,” as she had mentally dubbed him, noticed.

“That would be the purpose of the thumb,” he said teasingly. She now winced visibly. “Groovy ride,” the man stated as he looked at her car.

“Thanks,” she said suspiciously. Plenty of people liked her car, but the use of the word ‘groovy’ usually had a mocking connotation. “Where you headed?”

“As far as you’ll take me.” The words had a bitter undertone, but Rhiana didn’t press.

“Alright. Well the trunk’s up front so…” She gestured to the military-issue bag slung over his shoulder.

“Lead the way.”

She walked around to the front of the car, popped open the trunk, and indicated he should throw the bag on top of her bags already inside. This whole thing was outside the realm of her experience, but she figured she should at least find out “Burt’s” name before letting him in her car. Holding out her hand, she boldly stated, “Rhiana McCoy. Call me Rhi.”

“Jason Markel. Thanks for the ride,” he said, shaking her hand firmly.

“Sure thing. I only have one condition,” Rhiana stated. Jason raised his eyebrow, Rhiana just smiled. “Don’t touch my radio.”

Giving her a grin in return, he replied, “Not a problem.”

Sliding into the front seat, she turned down the radio, briefly noticing that it sounded a bit fuzzier. She fiddled with the dial as she pulled back onto the road, trying in vain to get the station to come in stronger.

Sliding a look at Jason, she noticed he seemed absorbed in looking out the window, tapping his foot absentmindedly to the Cat Stevens song currently playing. Allowing a grin to cross her face, she turned to her unexpected passenger, trying to strike up a conversation.

“So what exactly were you doing out in the middle of nowhere, trying to hitch a ride?” This got his attention, and he turned from the window to look at her.

“Could we not talk about that?”

Well, so much for conversation. “Sure, sorry. Just trying to make conversation.”

“Let’s put it this way: No one ever hitches a ride with a stranger because life is going great. Get me?” The vehemence in his voice made her begin to question her decision to stop in the first place.

“Okay. Gotcha. New topic then. How about music? What bands do you like?” Rhiana tried to lighten the darkening mood. When Jason’s eyes lit up and he started listing off some of the greatest bands from the 60s, Rhiana figured that picking this guy up hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

Two hours later, the two were debating the merits of the Beatles’ “Abbey Road” when Rhiana saw an exit to a small town off to the side of the road. Suddenly realizing that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast back in Denver, she cut into Jason’s discourse on the quality of Ringo’s drum solo to suggest they try to find someplace to eat.

It didn’t take long to find a small diner right off the main drag in the little town. As she pulled into the parking lot of the diner, Rhiana couldn’t help but feel as if something was wrong with the surroundings. Following Jason inside, she tried to shake the feeling of wrongness that accosted her from all sides.

“Something wrong?” Jason asked after their waiter walked away with the order.

The sound of his voice broke whatever spell had held her attention, and she turned to smile at him reassuringly. “No, it’s nothing.”

“So, whatcha gonna do once you get where you’re going?” she started, eager to focus on something else. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to talk about that either.”

Jason sent her a reassuring smile. “No, it’s all good. I shouldn’t have been so short with you earlier. I’d just been standing out there for who knows how long without anyone going by. I didn’t think I was ever going to get a ride, and talking about my depressing life wasn’t exactly what I needed to get out of my funk. I’m lucky you passed by, and even luckier you stopped. Not many people on the roads these days—not with the gas crisis anyway.”

“Gas crisis? I know prices are on the high side right now, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a crisis,” Rhiana said, slightly confused. She wasn’t completely oblivious when it came to things like gas prices and the war in Iraq, but she had yet to hear it referred to as a crisis. Still, she thought if one was a bit down on their luck, it could be perceived as a crisis.

Jason laughed bitterly, “You would you’re traveling all the way across the country by car. Anyway though, in answer to your question: I’m starting over. The last year hasn’t been the greatest. I figured I’d just pick everything up, hitch my way across the country, and start over.”

Rhiana’s eyes widened as he finished. “I’m not sure whether you’re out of your mind or just know something the rest of us don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Jason questioned.

Rhiana responded with ease. “Well, let’s just say that I’m not normally the type of person who does anything outside her comfort zone. Not to mention my comfort zone is pretty freaking small.”

Jason looked at her with a grin. “You do realize you’re having this conversation with a random guy you don’t know, but picked up off the side of the road only a few hours ago.”

A soft chuckle escaped Rhiana’s lips. “Point taken. But this isn’t exactly a normal occurrence,” she said, leaving off the fact that this was actually a first-time occurrence.

Rhiana pressed back into her seat as Jason leaned over the table, eyes alight. “Haven’t you ever just wanted to start over? Forget everything about your past mistakes, your personal history, and start fresh? Making a new life for yourself exactly the way you’ve always imagined it?”

Feeling her heart clench for a moment, she whispered, almost inaudibly, “Every day.” Then forcing herself back to reality, she responded logically. “But it’s impossible to forget your past. It will always be there. It’s what shaped you into the person you are.”

Leaning back into his seat, Jason gave Rhiana an appraising look. “What if I don’t like who I am? I’ve killed people, you know.” Seeing the panicked look that entered Rhiana’s eyes, he quickly clarified. “I’m a vet; served in ‘Nam for two years.”

Rhiana suddenly heard her blood rushing in her ears. Certain that she couldn’t have heard right, she hissed out a one-word question. “What?”

Jason sighed. “I should have realized, what with the car you drive, that you were in the peace movement.”

Rhiana tuned out, as suddenly it all came together. A glance out the window revealed what had made her feel so discomfited earlier. All the vehicles were makes from the 50s, 60s, and early 70s. She could just make out the registration sticker on the car closest to her: 74. Her revelation took only a second, but it felt like an eternity. In the back of her mind, she could hear Jason continuing to talk.

“Well, guess what? I was a hippie too—until the draft, that is. You remember the draft right?” he asked in a challenging, sarcastic tone.

Suddenly, several images flashed across her mind. Images of revolt and anger. A feeling of anxiety accompanied an image of a man picking numbered balls out of a bin on a grainy black-and-white television. With shock, she answered Jason’s question. “Yeah, I do.”

It’s not possible! Rhiana thought, feeling slightly sick to her stomach. It must have shown on her face, because Jason stopped whatever he’d been about to say and instead asked her if she was alright.

Rhiana didn’t answer; instead she shot to her feet. Standing up turned out to be a mistake, as she felt the blood rushing from her head. Then she promptly blacked out, smacking her head hard against the table as she fell.

When she came to a few moments later, the first thing she saw was Jason’s concerned face looming over her and a waitress leaning over him.

“Is she alright?”

“Should we call a doctor?”

“What happened?”

The flurry of questions only served to make her already pounding head hurt more, and Rhiana was inordinately grateful to hear Jason yell at everyone to shut up.

He turned back to her, his dark eyes showing concern.

“I’m just gonna ask you a few basic questions, alright?”

Rhiana nodded from her position on the floor.

“What’s your name?”

“Rhiana McCoy.”

“What’s your birthday?”

“June 24th,” she responded, deliberately leaving off the year.

“I’ll take your word on that,” he said with a grin. “Last one. What’s the date?”

Rhiana blanched slightly. “I…I don’t know.”

Jason looked concerned. “Not even the year?”

Rhiana shook her head, grimacing as the pounding inside it increased.

“It’s July 23rd, 1974,” he stated, before standing up again. He turned to the waitress and asked if there was any place to stay nearby. She replied that the closest motel was a few towns down I-70. Jason gave Rhiana an appraising look and said, “Looks like you’re the passenger now.”

“No, that’s alright. It’s my car, I drive,” Rhiana gritted, holding her head. As he had pointed out earlier, they didn’t really know each other. Hand over my keys to a ‘Nam vet? I don’t think so. He probably has PTSD! Rhiana almost burst into hysterics at how easily she found thinking of the situation as normal.

“You let me drive, or you don’t go anywhere.” Jason’s tone was firm, and Rhiana knew he wasn’t going to budge on this one.

“Fine,” she conceded. She didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, she knew he was right; she was in no state to drive.

Extending his hand, Jason helped her up, steadying her when she swayed slightly. Looking around the diner, Rhiana did not notice the concerned faces of the customers, but rather their clothing. The wide collars, paisley patterns, bell-bottomed pants. How had she missed them? When she reached the car, she plunked down in the passenger seat, letting Jason take the wheel. Rhiana didn’t see the concerned look that Jason shot her as he pulled the car back on the road. Her mind was full of scattered images and sounds that resembled memories—memories she couldn’t quite place.

Closing her eyes, Rhiana allowed the scenes to flood her mind as she drifted back into unconsciousness. These new memories centered around events that Rhiana had thought she’d only read about. She remembered seeing the Beatles’ first appearance on Ed Sullivan; running away from home to live in a commune in the Haight-Asbury district of San Francisco; traveling cross-country to Woodstock; participating in large protests and marches to try to stop the war in Vietnam; the horror she felt when she first heard about the shootings at Kent State. She remembered finally leaving the west coast to pursue a college education. She could recall the irritation at inflated gas prices, thanks to the oil embargo brought about by another stupid war. The barrage of memories seemed to take a lifetime, but it wasn’t more than a few hours before she came back to reality.

Rhiana was surprised to find that they were still driving, vaguely recalling Jason asking the waitress the location of a motel.

“I thought we were going to stop at the next town,” she asked, as she stretched in her seat.

Jason jumped slightly at her voice, and then turned to her. “You’re awake.” Rhiana gave him a look, so he went on. “Well, I just figured that you were already sleeping, so there was no point in losing time. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No worries. Good call. If you want a break, I’m good to drive now.”

Giving her an incredulous look, he responded, “No thanks, I got it. So…what happened back there?”

“I’ll tell you when I get the keys to my car back,” said Rhiana, frustrated with the lack of control she had over her life at the moment.

Jason seemed about to argue with her, but thought better of it before pulling over to let her drive. Rhiana drove for awhile in silence before Jason brought up again the question of what happened in the diner.

Rhiana glanced at Jason out of the corner of her eye. Not quite sure how to answer, and not even sure she wanted to, she whispered, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jason’s voice was just as quiet and slightly haunted when he said, “You might be surprised.”

Turning back in his direction, Rhiana debated telling him the truth. It was oddly fitting that she had spent the last several years of her life studying the history of people just like him, disillusioned soldiers just wanting to start over. Rhiana suddenly decided that the truth wasn’t important; she would have to learn to live in the now. Instead, she used one of her new memories (if she could call them that) for inspiration. “I believe that, but let’s just say it was a flashback to a bad trip.”

“I can dig that,” he said, smiling at her with understanding.

Settling back in her seat, Rhiana grinned. “Let’s just keep driving.”

They drove through the night, taking turns, with one of them driving while the other slept. At first Rhiana hadn’t wanted to give up the keys, but the prospect of stopping frightened her even more than letting a stranger have control over where she was going. She kept telling herself that if she kept moving, things would work out. And despite the absurdity of the thought, it seemed to be working. Rhiana’s dreams were full of memories that were becoming more real to her with every passing moment. Once they hit St. Louis the next day, they finally stopped at a small motel to rest. Rhiana’s need to keep moving and newly discovered past prompted her to do things she wouldn’t normally do. For example that evening the two travelers went to a small disco, and afterward went down to the riverfront to look at the Arch.

Jason was the first one to break the silence. “So, when do you have to be back at school?”

“Not for a few weeks yet. Why?” Rhiana asked curiously.

“Well, you’re not that bad to have around, and it’s your car, so it’s your decision, but I just figured…” he trailed off.

“Just spit it out.”

“You could come with me, ya know, traveling. You can choose where. Like I said, it is your car.”

Rhiana felt as if her entire future rested on her answer to this question. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was a reason she should say no, but when she looked at the scarred veteran standing next to her, she couldn’t think of a single one.

“Okay.” She had never felt so secure in a decision before. With that single word, she was filled completely with peace.


“Rhi, the door!”

The older woman opened her front door to reveal a slightly younger couple on the doorstep. The man stepped forward.

“Doctor Markel? I’m Kevin McCoy. We called about the car.”

A brilliant grin touched Rhi’s face. “Yes, I got your call. Come in. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you. I have to say, it’s remarkable that you put this car on the market when you did. Our daughter is very into retro things. This car will mean the world to her.”

Leading the couple to the garage, Rhi smiled contentedly. “My husband and I wouldn’t have it any other way. He had a fit when I told him I was selling it. We had some great times with that old car.”

The younger woman spoke up. “I was wondering about that. Judging by your description, this car sounds like one of a kind. I find it hard to believe you’re letting go of it.”

At this, Rhi opened the door to the garage, allowing the couple a good look at the beautifully psychedelically painted 1965 Volkswagen Beetle.

A distant look entered Rhi’s eyes as she looked at the car. “Some things just have to be shared.”

Rhi’s thoughts flashed back to a memory of two strangers cruising down a lonely interstate talking about music and driving off the loneliness.

Tonight finds me sitting at my desk dead exhausted from a Winter Carnival. A cup of peppermint tea and honey within reach. You are probably wondering why, if I am dead exhausted, I am sitting here typing instead of sleeping. Motivation has struck and I'm going with it; though I do wish that it would stop striking right before I go to bed.

Over this past week it has come to my realization that I am singing again. Why is this so significant? Well, I'm going to save the details of that question for a different post, but suffice it to say that for the past month I haven't been able to find the desire to sing. However, tonight something more significant happened. I was able to, and enjoyed, singing with others. To me music is one of the greatest ways to reach someone on a "soul" level. Nothing speaks to me quite like music. However, I am a fairly private person, and while I usually enjoy belting out tunes in the privacy of my own car or home, It's hard for me to muster up the courage to sing in front of others (especially people I know). For me to be able to sing, carefree, in front of my friends indicates that I have finally come to trust them with a part of me.

My life is at a cusp, a turning point. All my life I've had decent friends, but friends I never seem to fully trust in. In times of need I try and deal with things on my own, instead of looking for support in others. Seeing the love and support I've received from my friends in my most recent emotional down-slide has led me to understand that I have two choices at hand. I can either continue along the familiar path, never getting too close, staying inside my comfort zone. Or...I can do something totally outside of my character; I can trust in these people and give of myself, give my love and support, in return instead of just receiving. I've chosen the later.

Moving into a new phase of life isn't easy. I have to remember Philippians 4:13 ("I can do all things"...look it up if you're interested), because goodness knows I'm stubborn in my ways. What motivates me is that I see these people, my friends, as a gift. To not give them as much as they give me is an insult, not only to the Gifter, but to them most of all. These people deserve great friends, and I want try to be the best I can. I realize I'm human, and will screw up accordingly on occasion, but I'll never grow unless I try.

I fully expect my efforts at reaching out to be awkward at times. For example: I'm not a very demonstrative person, but I like giving hugs to people I care about; one of my efforts is that I am going to try and give out more hugs (which may seem awkward at first). I don't know what else is in store for me, but I figure it's a good starting point. It's nice to have a master plan, but when does "Plan A" ever work; I think it's easier to wing it, so long as I don't slip back into old patterns when things get rough.

I will leave tonight (or should I say morning by now) with thoughts on the song which features as this post's title. "Shower the People" is one of my favorite songs by James Taylor. I found the second verse very fitting for my post this evening. I've posted the second verse and part of the chorus below, but I'd encourage you to read the lyrics for the whole song, as I find it says everything I want to say about my new life direction. Have a good one, whenever it is that you are reading.