Getting the Hell Out of Dodge

Sam says he’d like to get the hell out of Dodge tonight. He says I can come with him, and the Roo too. Cool.

There is nothing as compelling to me as my “get the hell out of Dodge” fantasies. It’s taken me a long time to win Sam over to my way of thinking, but tonight, its official. He’s in. And if we both weren’t so tired, we’d be out! (the door that is) There is just something so liberating in the notion that you really could turn your back and leave it all behind.

In my 20’s I dreamed of trading my Honda CRX for an SUV. I planned to load up the back with camping gear and books and blank journals. Not just a few books, but hundreds of books. And lots of blank journals too. I’d make my way into southern Utah and spend months and months driving and camping and reading and writing. I’d find the perfect spot, park and camp and hike for a few days, read a book or two, fill a bunch of pages in my journal, then move on and do the whole thing over again.

In my 30’s I dreamed of sailing away to a tiny island. I would live in a thatched hut with mosquito netting covering my bed and spend a few hours each day working with the owner of the only café on the island, serving umbrella drinks to locals and tourists. I would still have my books and journals, and maybe some paints and brushes as well and I would spend most of my days reclined in a canvas chair beneath the shade of a palm tree gazing at the crystal blue waters. In this dream there is always a fat, furry black & white cat that rubs around my ankles as I sit reading.

Today, I dream of going to an Ashram to study yoga and meditation. I see Buddhist prayer flags outside my door, their fluttering the only sound that interrupts the silence. Still my books and journals are there, and maybe some sculpting clay as well. I spend my days stretching and strengthening my body and stilling my mind. My muscles get long and strong, my breathing deep, and my mind, so very peaceful.

I couple of months ago, we had an employee at work who left for lunch and didn’t come back. We were worried about her and had even called the police. She finally called another employee late in the afternoon. She was moving to Texas, and was already on the road with all her stuff.

There was a lot talk about how insensitive she had been to not say anything to us, to make us worry about her that way. And I agreed with everything that was said. But deep in my heart I knew what she was doing and I sent her a mental high five. She’d gotten the hell out of Dodge.