TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES

That's not an option, that's a noun. My grandparents winter in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.

You could blink and miss it, but you wouldn't want to.


Beyond the gorges, mountains and dessert, it's home to

The World's Largest Tiedye Underwear.

TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES, NM // DEC 2012

These were made by an interesting guy named Dukatt. If you have tie dye needs, this is your guy. I wisely decided to take off my leggings after taking this photo for him to work on until morning.

FOUR

My publishing professor always preached that there was something about 4 am- perhaps the cosmos were aligned, or maybe all intention and clean, pure, direct energy and information was allowed to manifest and flow freely. If you woke up abruptly at four in the morning, you should record everything immediately.

It happened again. 4:09.

One thought somersaulted and revealed itself. VOILA!

We exist as humans to be. Just be.

The rest is all nonsense we fabricate in order to make us feel like we are somehow being more, but as far as I'm concerned, we either are or are not.

When I'm worried, anxious or uneasy, I Am Not. I may feel painfully aware of the Now, but I am in the past or in the future. I am certainly not existing in any kind of present state that would afford me the tools to transcend the feeling. I'm searching for blame or hyper-focusing on hypothetical events.

I might as well be on some other planet twiddling my thumbs and back flipping in to mud puddles while aliens run my brain.

But when I Am, nothing is bothersome because it's all part of a moment that I know I can't exist out of. Worry exists outside of this moment. Right now there's nothing. I just Am.

Or hell, maybe this is all jibberish and I should stop drinking caffeinated beverages before bed.

RAINBOW FALLS. BREVARD, NC.

SHAPES

Driving through the mountains I focused. This is full circle. Maybe I thought I had come fill circle before and perhaps I was near, but I wasn't here. This is all the way back. This is point one. This is the physical place of an intense emotional beginning.

I left here hungry. Hungry for change. Hungry for experience. Hungry for space and freedom and transcendence. Aren't those such vague words that we use to explain the nebulous feeling of, "I don't know what I need, but I'm going to get it"?

My pockets are full of life and that makes coming back here so special. I appreciate my progress and journey, and how this place equally cradled and catapulted me.

But yes. I'm here again. And I don't cry much these days but I keep losing water from my eyes. The house I wrote my heart out in. The coffee house I made my afternoon home. The establishments where the waitresses knew my face, my order, my quirks. The streets I wandered, searching for interaction and avoiding eye contact, an irony found in the center of depression.

And now I'm fine.
Yeah.
I'm going to say that again.
Now I'm fine.

I've been dragging myself back to the places that evoke distant feelings because I respect the past. I respect my past because I own the present. It's mine.

Full circle. 360 degrees.
I'm fine.

PACKING: MARA STYLE

Stare pensively into the closet.
Pull out my favorite pair of socks.
Consider the destination at hand.
Take an item off the hanger and fold it onto the bed.
Continue steps 1-4 for 15 minutes.
Look at the massive pile.
Feel regret.
Think, "Man, everything I own is black."
Throw a turquoise scarf atop the clutter. That looks nice.
Add some sweatpants to the pile.
Panic.
Walk downstairs and eat some goat cheese.
Come back and pull one pair of jeans from the equation.
Panic.
Square off a two foot by two foot area on the bed for sitting.
Write a blog.
Leave the house. Packing is nonsense.
Return and throw everything in sight into the bag.
Wear six items for the entire trip.

I always get it in my brain that I'm going to dress differently when I'm on a trip; that I'm going to arrive in a new location and want to invent myself into the kind of individual who likes to wear pretty dresses and hats.

It's official.

THINGS I AM PERPETUALLY BAD AT:
PACKING IN WINTER.

EAST

All-American Whirlwind Winter Tour stop 2 through ???: NORTH CAROLINA and UP.

I've never seen the east coast north of Washington DC (except the five days I spent in New York on my way home from Korea.)

I'm going on a road trip and in the meantime, I get to see a lot of people I'm fond of.

Life update: Everything's unpacked. All of my belongings are in my room. Yesterday was rough.  Lots and lots of pictures, hauled up notebooks and trinkets.

Hot damn do I cherish trinkets.

350 DAYS

That's not a rough estimate; that's an exact number.

I waited 350 days for Utah. I had a plan 350 days prior and I stuck to it. That alone needs documented.

Do you know how pretty Moab is? Man, it's pretty. The colors are barely justified in photos.

The reds. The grayish-blueish-greenish sparkling blanket of bush found in the canyons. The occasional Grannysmith-green tree standing strong amongst the bunch. The mountains tipped with snow.

Moab was lovely. Sleep came easy and the adventures never really stopped.

On the second night I nestled my cold face too far down into my mummy bag and for a brief moment, was confused about where I was. Once I found the air and became fully coherent, I remembered I was sleeping outside. I listened for the tranquil sound of crickets and... nothing.

I haven't been out west in years and whoa - the stillness of the night. I'd travel back just for that.

 

WEST

My backpack is full. All American Whirlwind Winter Tour stop one: UTAH.

I keep snuggling in to my sleeping bag on the living room floor. I'm ready to sleep in the desert.

PHOTO BY // BRITTANY TAYLOR