A Rush of Freedom

by Amanda Lane (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown USA

Within nine months, I hardly recognized my life. In September, I lost my father suddenly. In December, I quit my spirit draining job to devote myself entirely to my passion of teaching yoga. In February, I filed for divorce and left my husband. March, my house was on the market. May, I was divorced. June, the sale of my house was final. The very next day, I climbed on board a Southwest flight in Baltimore and headed to California. As we lifted off the ground, goosebumps swept my entire body. I couldn’t control my face from smiling. Was I breathing? I’m not sure. As we rose above the clouds, I had this unfamiliar feeling brewing inside me. A concentrated rush of freedom. It was in this moment I felt more empowered by my own strength than ever before and made the decision to take full ownership of actively participating in the creation of my new world. Free to be whomever and to do whatever I needed to do to heal. Followed by the all too familiar burning behind my eyes and the sweet release of tears. Tears which expelled all the powerlessness I had experienced over the past year. I was grateful to be at the beginning of this adventure to find my spirit in the broken remains and save my soul from deep sadness. When I landed in Oakland, the master adventurer himself, and my long time trusted friend, Peter, picked me up in his Subaru. He willingly offered his place for me to stay freely and helped plan and prepare this week long escapade with very little guidance. Peter had also recently been through a divorce, relocated, and thereby knew pretty well what I was seeking through this spontaneous and therapeutic getaway. Almost immediately leaving the airport, we made our way up skyline drive, heading west towards Piedmont. We passed through a grove of eucalyptus trees, stopped to make noises at goats, and parked. We walked towards a wide open space to sit in the dirt and stare in awe at the setting sun overlooking the entire San Francisco Bay. The days following felt like a well-curated dream. Peter was my travel guide and the best one I’d met. I spent the first morning walking Piedmont Avenue, admiring the succulent landscaping. That afternoon, we drove to San Francisco… up and down the steepest roads in America through Haight Ashbury and then headed towards the ocean. We became children, running wild, straight at the ocean, fully clothed. We left just enough time to roll through Golden Gate Park before heading to a concert for the evening. The following day was spent meandering through Morcom Rose Garden and scootering around Lakeside Park. Everything up to this point had been quintessential, but the perfection of June 9th, 2019 will forever live on in the innermost parts of my being. We packed the car for the day and headed down the coast, windows open, spirits high, en route to Big Sur. This was the reason, the spot that had pulled me out here in the first place. I had seen its magic through photos, through the lenses of others… and I knew I needed to see it, to feel it for myself. Upon arrival, we sat on a ledge, legs dangling, looking down at where McWay Falls hits the beach. It was magic. We talked about my dad, about life after divorce, about giving up bad habits and reinventing ourselves over and over until we can attain the best version possible. We made a few stops: the Henry Miller Library, Nepenthe, and a random stream to cool off. Next we headed towards Pebble Beach and drove right up to the ocean at Carmel by the Sea. Peter and I got out to touch down again. To ground ourselves. To sit. To stare. To think. To be. The green and pink succulents growing through the sand. The sea otters playing with their food. The waves crashing against large rocks that had been there for lifetimes. In witnessing the beauty of this magical world and having brand new experiences, I became whole once again. It was in California where I found myself.