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I’m still too close to this experience to speak clearly. All I can offer are incomplete thoughts. Still, in the spirit of ‘lifting the veil’ and breaking the stigma that only the unshakable strive for great things, here is an abridged journal entry.
Things are not going as expected.
I did not anticipate the sea to open wounds on my skin, to bore into the soft flesh of my hips and my lips, that I wake up each morning to salt and blood sealing my mouth shut. Opening it is to open the wound all over again. I did not anticipate that the wind and humidity and saltwater would both weather and tenderize my skin, making me break out like a greasy 13 year old covered in zits and rashes. That when I bend over in the evening, salt water pours from my nostrils and ears.
I did not anticipate this. The dolphins, manta rays, turtles, birds, schools of tiny, translucent fish following as the kayak glides through the water.
“Come along children, keep up,” I call to the school of sardines.
“move along girl, you’re fine,” the dolphins hum when fear throttles me over the choppy deep.
The constant race of life and death as one small fish jets out of the water and a larger needle nose fish pierces the surface and flies along behind, a life or death game of tag in the air. They skim inches before the nose of my boat.
Fish who fly, birds who swim, crabs who climb, grass that floats. The mangroves, eerie and ubiquitous above water, the life below the surface blooms in all colors and forms. Life growing on life, feeding on death, which gives life. Harboring shells, crabs, corals, mosses, insects. Schools of fish on a field trip in their underwater jungle.
I trip over the language, reverting to what I know. Channels are passes. Our route is still trail. Manta rays are sea pancakes. Swells are water mountains. Charts are maps. Why is that water pokey and churning like a washing machine?
I did not anticipate the fear. It rises in me falls away into darkness beneath. Swells up in me and the water pitches it about. I can feel my boat pulled in two or even three different directions at once. To remain balanced, I must stop trying to stay balanced.
Why didn’t I just stick to what I was good at? Walking. Tierra firma. that was challenge enough, why’d I have to go pick something that I don’t have much experience with and which terrifies me?
I wish for my all to be here, on this project and on the goal of movement. Present and focused and simple, that which I come out here seeking. But I seem to find that only in instants. In the lack of steady movement, my mind fixates on the struggles in relationship with Neon. This has been the longest relationship I have been in and sustaining it has become an unexpectedly important work of the journey.
Communication is breaking down as uncertainty wells in the face of the new daily challenges we face. And on the brink of knowing our paths forward diverge. I have so little I can count on, this relationship has become one of those few things and now I don’t know where it is going nor what it is to become. She speaks of heading home and working and baking and then bike packing around the US while I hike the CDT. My calling remains out here, with this. To connect the dots and the lives and the stories. To witness them even and especially where they are hard to get to.
Can I really just skip Panama, call it lateral movement and leave it behind? Will I be content with paddling a few hundred kilometers around a vacation destination and leave it at that? How can I reshape this section? Can I not fulfill the iteration which I myself designed over the course of three years and 8000 miles? Over the course of a lifetime.
Do I trust this enough to let go?
Do I trust my own worth enough to modify my system?
Where does one go when she feels to be at the end of her rope?
Spending so much time in the Bocas del Toro region, we got to learn about some of the super cool organizations at work in the community. For this month’s “pay it forward” from the support we receive, we are proud to contribute toward Give and Surf, an organization that focus on education and opportunity for local kids! We like how they supported the all female competitive rowing crew Cayuco Paunch in teaching local girls how to row.
Un extracto del Diaro de Fidgit
Traduccion por Fabiana
Todavía estoy demasiado cerca de esta experiencia para hablar con claridad. Todo lo que puedo ofrecer son pensamientos incompletos. Aún así, en el espíritu de “Alzar la vela” y romper el estigma que solo los inquebrantables se esfuerzan por lograr grandes cosas, aquí hay una breve introducción del diario.
Las cosas no van como se esperaba.
No anticipé que el mar abriera heridas en mi piel, que perforara la suave carne de mis caderas y mis labios, que despierto cada mañana con sal y sangre sellando mi boca. Abrirla es abrir la herida de nuevo. No anticipé que el viento, la humedad y el agua salada fueran tan erosivos y ablandarían mi piel, haciéndome brotar como una puberta grasienta de 13 años cubierto de granos y erupciones. Que cuando me inclino por la tarde, el agua salada brota de mi nariz y oídos.
Yo no esperaba esto. Los delfines, mantarrayas, tortugas, aves, cardúmenes de peces pequeños y peces translúcidos que lo siguen mientras el kayak se desliza a través del agua.
“Vamos, niños, sigan”, llamo al cardumen de sardinas.
“muévete, niña, estás bien”, los delfines tararean cuando el miedo me estrangula en la profundidad de un mar picado.
La carrera constante de la vida y la muerte cuando un pez pequeño sale del agua y un pez aguja más grande perfora la superficie y vuela detrás, un juego de vida o muerte en el aire. Pasan deslizándose a sólo pulgadas de la punta de mi bote.
Peces que vuelan, aves que nadan, cangrejos que trepan, cesped que flota. Los manglares, misteriosos y omnipresentes sobre el agua, la vida debajo de la superficie florece en todos los colores y formas. La vida crece en la vida, se alimenta de la muerte, que da vida. Albergando conchas, cangrejos, corales, musgos, insectos. Cardúmenes de peces en un viaje de campo en su jungla submarina.
Me encuentro con el idioma, volviendo a lo que sé. Los canales son pases. Nuestra ruta sigue siendo un camino. Manta rayas son panquecas del mar. El oleaje del mar son montañas de agua. Los gráficos son mapas. ¿Por qué es esa agua punzante y agitante como una lavadora?
No anticipé el miedo. Se eleva en mí se cae en la oscuridad debajo mío. Olea en mí y el agua lo echa alrededor. Puedo sentir mi bote tirando en dos o incluso tres direcciones diferentes a la vez. Para permanecer equilibrada, debo dejar de intentar mantenerme equilibrada.
¿Por qué no me limité a lo que era buena? Caminando. “Tierra firme”, eso ya fue suficiente desafío, ¿por qué tenía que elegir algo con lo que no tengo mucha experiencia y que me aterroriza?
Deseo que todo esté aquí, en este proyecto y en el objetivo del movimiento. Presente y enfocado y simple, ese algo que vengo buscando. Pero parece que lo encuentro solo en instantes. En la falta de movimiento constante, mi mente se fija en mis conflictos en relación con Neon. Esta ha sido la relación más larga en la que he estado y mantenerla se ha convertido en una obra inesperadamente importante del viaje.
La comunicación se está rompiendo a medida que la incertidumbre surge ante los nuevos desafíos diarios que enfrentamos. Y a punto de conocer nuestros caminos divergen. Tengo muy poco con lo que puedo contar, esta relación se ha convertido en una de esas pocas cosas y ahora no sé a dónde va ni en qué se convertirá. Ella habla de ir a casa y trabajar y hornear, y luego ir en bicicleta por los EE. UU. mientras yo hago la caminata en el CDT. Mi llamado permanece aquí, con esto. El de conectar los puntos y las vidas y las historias. Para ser testigos de ellos, y especialmente donde son difíciles de encontrar.
¿Realmente puedo saltarme a Panamá, llamarlo movimiento lateral y dejarlo atrás? ¿Me sentiré contenta con remar unos cientos de kilómetros alrededor de un destino vacacional y dejarlo así? ¿Cómo puedo remodelar esta sección? ¿No puedo realizar la reiteración que yo mismo diseñe a lo largo de tres años y 8000 millas? En el transcurso de una vida.
¿Confío en esto lo suficiente como para dejarlo ir?
¿Confío en mi propio valor suficiente para modificar mi sistema?
¿A dónde va uno cuando se siente al final de su cuerda?
Pasando tanto tiempo en la región de Bocas del Toro, pudimos aprender sobre algunas de las super buenas organizaciones que trabajan en la comunidad. Para el cadena de favores o mejor conocido como “pay it forward” de este mes del apoyo que recibimos, estamos orgullosos de contribuir a Give and Surf, una organización que se enfoca en la educación y las oportunidades para los niños locales. Nos gusta la forma en que apoyaron al equipo de remo competitivo de mujeres, Cayuco Paunch para que enseñara a las chicas locales a remar.
Comments (15)
Written like a True Heart, as always. I can taste the sea and the fear. I can smell honesty. Thank you.
I loved reading this. You are such an inspiration to be brave and flexible – and to never let anything paralyse you. Thank you for being you.
It reminded me that I am but a tiny spec in this whole system. You words fortify me in continuing and honoring my role. I love being in this journey alongside women like you.
From “A Servant to Servants”:
It’s rest I want—there, I have said it out—
From cooking meals for hungry hired men 50
And washing dishes after them—from doing
Things over and over that just won’t stay done.
By good rights I ought not to have so much
Put on me, but there seems no other way.
Len says one steady pull more ought to do it. 55
He says the best way out is always through.
And I agree to that, or in so far
As that I can see no way out but through—
Leastways for me—and then they’ll be convinced.
[…]
I ‘spose I’ve got to go the road I’m going:
Other folks have to, and why shouldn’t I? 160
I almost think if I could do like you,
Drop everything and live out on the ground—
But it might be, come night, I shouldn’t like it,
Or a long rain. I should soon get enough,
And be glad of a good roof overhead.
https://www.bartleby.com/118/9.html
This is some new and relatable Frost to me!
I’m impressed with your honesty and willingness to share your struggles.
Thank you! I tried to get my scheduling manager to pull it a few times because I felt self conscious and always worry whether it adds to the narrative but struggles are the mountain passes of the inner path and this journey travels on both fronts.
I have to mirror Marva’s thoughts. You are an incredible writer and brave woman. Thank you for sharing honestly. And YES, trust your gut.
Thank you, Tricia. I am so glad you have joined us on this path.
Bravo! I am reading a novel; I feel every word and I am in awe of your strength, courage and honesty. As stated above, trust your gut. I’m with you all the way.
Oh wow, thank you!
Forward we go!
Well done! The most real words, the most pulled in to experience I have read today and for a good while.
Thank you!
Live in the moment. Then Move forward with open eyes. You never know what the tide or around the boulder will bring. That is the journey.
One step, one paddle stroke, one breath at a time, I inch forward. Thank you for believing in what I can do!