I dont know

Is your move temporary or permanent?

I don’t know.

When are you coming back home?

I don’t know.

Are you returning to LA?

I don’t know.

Might you move to Portland?

I don’t know.

Are there teaching opportunities where you are?

I don’t know.

Are you planning on teaching anywhere?

I don’t know.

If you dont teach, how will you support yourself?

I don’t know.

 

Elizabeth Gilbert had her “Eat, Pray, Love” year and I’m having my “I don’t know, taking a sabbatical and going within year.”  Maybe I’ll call it “Tacos, Weed and Swiggle.”  What’s a “swiggle”?  It’s what my partner and I call snorkeling, which we do a lot in this secret place.

Or maybe I’ll call it “Yoga Wisdom Pachamama.” For those not “woke” enough, that last word means Earth—as in, to be one with the Earth—you know, the tree hugger, hippie-dippie type who doesn’t always shower because the ocean and the moon bathe her but when she does, it’s in her outdoor shower where she can catch a glimpse of the fig tree growing next to the bursting avocados.

Does that describe me?  Maybe… Maybe it describes the new me. I don’t know.

So I don’t know… What I did know is that the US was going to be a shit show between “The Rona” (aka Covid-19) and our fucked-up government.  Not to mention this being an election year.  So I’m watching the shit show from afar.  Sitting with the question of what’s next. And truthfully, I don’t know.

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