Yesterday, I took a shuttle to Denver International Airport, about 1 hour and 15 minutes from Fort Collins. I look forward to seeing my sister's family and my mom and dad. However, I am not looking forward to the cold. The daytime highs in Idaho are around 37 F (2.8 C). Brrr! I will need to suck it up until I find warmer weather a few weeks after visiting with my family.
I assumed that everyone was familiar with the Western United States. Below is a map of 11 states that compose the Western United States. Starting in the eastern part of the image, Colorado is located above the pink state of New Mexico. The two important cities in Colorado for me are Denver and Fort Collins, near the north-central part of Colorado. Denver is the location of the major airport I fly out of, and Fort Collins is where I currently own a house. Northwest of Colorado is the powder blue state of Idaho. Idaho Falls is located in the eastern part of the state and is west of Jackson, Wyoming, near the border of Idaho and Wyoming. When I want to visit my family from Denver, I fly to either Idaho Falls, Idaho, or Jackson, Wyoming. The destination I choose depends on the cost.
Before leaving, I made a visit a visit to my storage unit. While looking for something I could not find, which is quite common these days, I stumbled into a journal from a meditation course I took back in 2019. Before I share more about what I found, here's a little background. The course I took in 2019 was hosted by Jill Pape Lemke. Jill specializes in guided Shamanic Journey meditations. I know, right? What the hell does that mean? That's what I thought too. At least before I began listening to her podcast.
In short, Jill's guided meditations allow space for introspection and enable participants to raise their awareness by guiding them through short journeys. Her podcast Breaking Beyond is fantastic! The meditations are short, 15-20 minutes, very well designed, and a great place to start if you have never meditated. The premise is Jill guides participants through a framework, call it an open-ended story. As the meditation unfolds, Jill frequently allows space for participants to explore things on their own, interact with, or feel something that is unique to them. Her meditations provide a vehicle for amazing and insightful meditations.
When I found my journal, I grabbed it to read at the airport. It didn't take long before I realized that many resonated with me due to my experiences since the course. One, in particular, was an experience where people around me were not people at all. Rather, they were automatons. They moved through the landscape in an apparent lifeless zombie-like state. Yet, when I took an interest in them and talked with them, they came to life. It was as if they were waiting for someone to share their interesting stories with. I found this very intriguing then and wondered what stories "real people" had to share with me. Why are people content being zombies in their own lives? Is this what our modern world has done to us? Nearly 3 years before I left for Europe, this meditation foreshadowed my travels. Is this why I have and continue to meet so many interesting people and have such fantastic experiences in my travels?
Notably, this continues to happen every time I board a plane. For example, on this flight, I sat across the aisle from a woman and her dog, a Belgium Malinois. When I look at the dog, I notice it is wearing a leather muzzle and a broad collar. On the collar is written in large letters K-9 Unit and the woman's name, Tori. "How long has your K-9 officer been your partner?" I asked Tori. Then as if I was in my meditation, Tori lights up. "Fury is technically not an officer, and neither am I. Fury is trained as a forensics dog. We work with local, state, and federal law enforcement, though," she says.
Tori begins to tell me her and Fury's story. As a dog trainer, Tori has built a small team of K-9 forensics and handlers that work throughout the country. They specialize in finding human remains. Is Fury always this gentle? He appears to travel well, I say. "He's just worn out. We are returning from California, where we searched for people after the flood. Having a trained specialized dog is like having a special needs kid. I can't leave him with just anybody, she says.
Tori and I spend a reasonable amount of time conversing on the plane. I share with her some of my travel experiences and discuss how difficult it is to constantly travel for work. "I get it. I spent too much windshield time driving across the intermountain west of the United States for work. One day I totaled up how many miles I drove per year on average and multiplied that times the number of years I worked. That was a big number. I should have stopped there. But, instead, I divided it by 8. That is when I realized I had spent close to 3.5 years of my life driving 8 hours per day, 365 days per year," I tell Tori. "Wow! That's an incredibly long time," she says, shocked by what I shared with her. "Sure is. That is when I decided to let my feet take places," I tell her.
It feels great to be reminded of my purpose. Reading my reflections on my meditations was a jumpstart to re-engaging strangers. A part of my travels I have enjoyed tremendously. It feels fantastic to be traveling again. I have had an amazing 9 months so far. However, I am far from finished. What lies ahead is less important than how I live getting there. As long as I stay committed to my purpose the rest will reveal itself in due time.
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