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| Image thanks: madam-zelda.blogspot.com |
Remember the post about a month ago (Discovering Courage) in
which I found two phone numbers for a possible J. Wellington? I was able to rule
out one number and left with an unanswered ring on the other. My anxiety peaked at that time as I tried dialing the numbers…
Well, I’m happy to report that the second phone call was
much more relaxed.
And I was still met with NO ANSWER.
Brrrrinnnng brrrrinnng brrrrinnnng was all I heard.
Not so fun (sigh).
The last few days I've been thinking a lot about Joe "Wellington" and our brief time together. I reread through my San Francisco
journal, just in case there was something I missed. No luck. I've been
trying to remember things that were said, things we did, and it all seems to lead me toward dead ends.
One cool thing we did: saw a psychic. She gave us readings separately, Joe waiting for me while I went because I didn’t
want to walk back to the hostel in the dark alone.
I believe in the gift of clairvoyance. I have very dear friends, who I admire, who have that gift. But there are some psychics out there who give these people who have the true gift a bad name. The psychic I saw in San Fran was one of those.
I believe in the gift of clairvoyance. I have very dear friends, who I admire, who have that gift. But there are some psychics out there who give these people who have the true gift a bad name. The psychic I saw in San Fran was one of those.
She wanted my money. All of it. And she even asked me for
it! After reading my cards, she said she would keep a candle burning for me until
I returned with “all the money you have” and continue the reading. She was even so bold to ask me how
much money I had. Of course, I didn’t tell her. If I did not return, she said
she would blow out the candle and apparently I would be met with misfortune…? I
can’t remember exactly what the consequence was, but I didn’t return. Maybe that’s why I can’t find Joe Wellington?
This instance is important to me now because I feel like
these past few weeks I’ve had questions remain unanswered. And I don’t even know
what the questions are, if that makes any sense. There is just a general,
open-ended, search for meaning happening in my life right now. The
Existentialists out there can appreciate that.
I’ve had horrible writer’s block. I feel antsy when I don’t write,
and I want to write about everything… but nothing has been flowing. I
began several posts but none felt right. I couldn’t find the answer to my
non-question. Ha!
The weather change makes me feel like Thanksgiving is right
around the corner but it’s only May. It brings on this intense homesickness
that I can’t seem to shake and the only reprieve I find is that I know we’ll be
heading to the States in only a few months. But again, that lingering sorrow
just tugs at my spirit. Again, looking for answers.
Along with the homesickness, comes this aching loneliness.
Lonely for what exactly, I don’t know. Perhaps, just lonely for a connection. My
social life has been scattered, with friends laid up with illness, filming,
or working, or just busy getting ready to hibernate for the winter. I’m
constantly with my son so I shouldn’t feel lonely (?). Yet, I’m still looking for
answers.
I remind myself that sometimes the answers lie in
the not knowing; the uncertainty; the unmotivated; the loneliness; the insecurity.
So I wait. I practice patience. I allow myself to sit with all these thoughts
and pent up creative energy that is festering until it can ooze out of me at the right time.
My purpose is just to enjoy all of it. Let it sit, let it float out there in
the universe, and the answers will come.
As I replay in my memory the moments shared in San
Francisco 1998, I wonder what the answer will be... Where’s Joe Wellington?
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| Me with Joe Wellington in 1998. He was real! |
Brrrrinnng brrrrinnng brrrrinnnng is all I can hear in my
head right now.
Maybe not having an answer is enough.
