Recently, a new subscriber made the most adorable comment, saying she’d like to come along for the “Chasing Light” journey, “if there’s still room.” Good news! There is an infinite amount of space for fellow sojourners! The more, truly the merrier. A three-fold welcome to all of you women and men who have opted in for this wild ride!

We just topped 200 subscribers, and there are even more of you reading who aren’t yet subscribed. Wahoo!  And because I am a writer, because I think in images, and because these images are happening in my head, coming out of my imagination, anything is possible, right? (Also, I’m in Sedona, so I might have wandered into a vortex…)

Anyway, to my great delight, here is how I am seeing our collective trek:

A quadruple-decker vehicle with extra wheels that can be rolled out to the side, for extra rooms – dens with bookcases full of books, parlors with small cozy fireplaces. Kitchens with pans of hot lasagna and big bowls of crisp salad populating long counters, and dining rooms with bottles of wine and decanters of brandy and a keg here and there of good dark beer. Greenhouses full of herbs and flowers, where the sun streams in through high atria. Wide lavatories with Jacuzzis, bubbling with warm fragrant water.

On the very top there is an enormous sundeck, where solar panels drink in the sun, and so do we. Some of us are in shorts and t-shirts, flip-flops, smelling of suntan lotion, light winking from our sunglasses. Some of us are naked, stretched out in the in the bright hot sun like contented cats.

Several lob volleyballs back and forth. Some of us are sitting in corners under brightly-hued umbrellas, reading quietly or listening intently – to Handel’s Water Music or Benny Goodman or Etta James or George Clinton or Sylvan Esso; or taking in a recorded book or a brain-stimulating podcast – via headphones.

Some of us are in flowing jewel-colored caftans – garnet, and jade, and rich yellows – the wind blowing the silky sleeves away from our strong arms.

Some are meditating. Some are praying.

Trios and quartets and a few small choirs coalesce, a cappella voices traveling into the air. Someone pulls out a guitar. Then a mandolin. Then a fiddle. Someone else produces a djembe.

We are hanging off the ever-expanding vehicle’s sides, feeling the wind on our faces, as we roll along the freeway, bounce down new two-lane state highways that bisect new landscapes. We play ping-pong on the lower deck, calculating the variations for hitting a small plastic ball weighing 2.7 grams in one direction while traveling 65mph in another. We loll in hammocks that rock us to sleep. Our conveyance is powered by sunlight, cold fusion, and love.

And if I have not said it enough, let me say it now: Thank you for coming along! I am honored to be in your company!

I love knowing you all are with me as I coast past large cities on wide multi-lane freeways and cruise along small towns’ narrow streets.  You gape in amazement with me at the white sands at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico; at the blue-gray Spanish moss in Louisiana; at the ochre desert in Texas; at the bright yellow blooms along New Mexico highways; at the red rocks in Sedona.

You’re with me as I hang my head out the window and tentatively back up into my newest camping spot. You are the ones peering past my shoulder as we watch the sun go down. In my mind’s eye, together we bear witness to stars winking in a brand new sky.

Here is the thing: I’ve talked with fellow solo travelers I’ve met along the way, and we all agree – the loneliness can sometimes be crushing. Of course, part of the point of the journey is to go it alone. We remind each other, it is a way of testing our mettle, seeing what we are made of. An intentional way of being singularly with our own thoughts enough to sort through the clamor inside our heads; of releasing old griefs and regrets, or figuring out the big transition we might have come awake into. And of taking in our surroundings with only our own thoughts and perceptions as filters, slowing down to absorb and process.

But, oh, the loneliness. I’m here to tell you. It’s a thing.

And then, like the water that refreshes those thirsty willows I’ve been longing to see, one of you sends a comment, a thought, a reminder, an encouraging word. You share bits of your story. Fragments of your dreams. Spare bits of joy. The lines and texture and shading of the pictures of your own intended journeys as they are coming into view for you. And just like that, a day that seemed empty is populated with friends.

So thank you for being part of “Chasing Light.” If you are new and haven’t yet done so, you may want to go here to read the first post, the “because” and “wherefore” and the  “thus” and “so” of the journey’s genesis. An inkling of what we might be in for. (Who is to say? I’m only 1/3 of the way into this pilgrimage!)

I sign off tonight with gratitude. More about Sedona in the next post. And vortexes. And a mysterious singing crystal bowl. Until then, have a great week, everyone.

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18 Responses to Wahoo!!

  1. Ana says:

    Rebecca, I am living vicariously through your travels, right down to the bringing of two of the best dogs that were ever created: boxers! I fantasize all the time about traveling cross country with my dog and no one else, writing a blog and a journal. While the physical field can feel lonely, know that spiritually we are truly traveling with you, conversing with you on the reflections you share with us. (And your prose is beautiful. The Oprah article was just amazing.) Peace and LIGHT…

    • rgummere says:

      Hi, Ana – thanks so much for reading and coming along. And thank you so very much for your kind comments! (And, YAY, boxers!)

  2. Kathie skidmore says:

    If u have time, roll that van up in our driveway and let those wonderful badmates (pups) run free in my back yard! Here in Chandler AZ and always avail to fellow travelers sharing dreams. B sure to experience the Sedona Vortex hikes! And we’re here if the loneliness overcomes you… me, two Boston terriors, great neighbors, sometimes the husband, and the butterflies and hummingbirds…. always willing to share my liece of peace and tranquility!

    • rgummere says:

      Thank you, Kathie! So generous! Heading to California next and tucking away your info and kind offer! 😉

  3. Chris A says:

    A kitty we need a kitty to sit on our laps and purr, too. In your picture, no one would be allergic, right?

  4. Rebecca the giver of Light and joy – who shakes me out of my morning stupor on a wet grey day and sings let our journey continue. I found you through the latest Oprah mag article and simple loved your honesty and wisdom during a life twisting experience. What a honor to take a ride with you through another soul searching chapter of your life. Thank you and beyond for your spirit flushed light! Sorry if it sounds fake but I love words too! I’m deeply grateful to you!

  5. Debbie says:

    Wow! That sounds amazing. Count me in!!

  6. annette mcdaniels says:

    Sedona!!!!!Oh be still my heart!!!!!! Love those red rocks..and if you listen really hard you may pick up the ethereal flute music wafting over the canyon. Thank you for sharing.

  7. Marie says:

    Carissima, Not only did we “gape in amazement with [you] at the white sands at the Gulf of Mexico,” your “light” literally led us to them. If you’re in Sedona, there’s no question that you’re in a vortex; can’t wait to hear about it and the singing crystal bowl and pretty much everything else that you write …. with affection from Durham

  8. Carole Johnston says:

    I read your amazing story in the Oprah magazine and immediately subscribed to your blog Rebecca – I admire you for doing your journey – I lost my daughter at 21 due to diabetic issues and so wanted to do what you are doing – takes… courage and determination. I loved Sedona one of my favorite times were spent there with a friend.
    Keep writing, stay safe – xx

    • rgummere says:

      Thank you so much, Carole, and thanks for your kind words. I am so, so very sad to learn of your loss. Truly heartbreaking. Please take good care and know my thoughts are with you.

  9. Sarah Flowers says:

    So glad to be “traveling” with you on your journey. I read your story in O and immediately connected with you as you wrote about Cooper. You put into words feelings I had not been able to express. Thank you!

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