This usually happens as I'm driving to or from work, when I've turned the radio off and purposely made myself "more present", or more aware of what's around me rather than what's in my head. I've sometimes spoke out loud to the empty space in the car "Give me focus, fill me with energy so I can meet the needs of this day and the people around me who depend on me." Sometimes I ask for clarity on a specific issue, on something that worries me or a decision I need to make. Sometimes I ask for peace of mind or for pain to be taken away -- emotional and physical. Some may consider this prayer or meditation. Some people may look at me in my car and think of me as a crazy woman talking to herself. I'm not sure what it is but it's a habit I've developed during the last 20 years of driving back and forth between Hagerstown and Richmond. It's my quiet time, my focus time, a buffer between the world of work and the world of home.
I sometimes "dump" my negativity or my problems in the river as I drive over the bridge on W.E. Oler Road. I want to dump it where it will flow far, far away, not gather, build up, and re-attach to me when I drive over the bridge again. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't -- both the dumping and avoiding the reattachment.
Sometimes, symbolically ridding myself of stress, negative emotions or problems is all it takes to make life feel better, more balanced. But sometimes I have to actually dump real things, make real changes and choices in my life to get back on track. Sometimes changes and choices are made for me and I fight them, or resent them, because they take me in a direction I don't want to go, or at least not yet. That resentment creates even more negative energy and stress, for me and the people around me.
Yesterday, on my way home, one of those life changes, one that I didn't have much say in, one that was made for me many years ago, was heavy on my mind. I felt resentful. I felt cheated, jilted, unfairly treated, then and now. I thought about what it's meant for me and those I love, how different things would be now for my loved ones especially, if I had more control over the situation and the timing. I didn't like the negative feeling that had overcome me, that was filling me -- I wanted the moment to be my friend, not my enemy -- so I turned off the radio, focused on the world around me rather than inside of me, and waited in silence as I drove home. I imagined my heart opening and clearing itself of bad energy. I breathed deeply and evenly. "Peace in, Love out". I looked for signs, patiently, and listened for a message. And the sign that jumped out at me, pulsated at me, was "Detour Ahead", but the word that stood out the most, in bright glowing clearness, was simply "Detour".
At that instant I understood for certain that if I had been given the control, or the power, to make the the painful decision about my life several years ago, instead of having it made for me, I would have wound up exactly where I am today. I may have taken a different path, a longer one or a shorter one, a more pleasant one or a more complicated one. However, I knew that the path I had taken, or rather that I felt forced to take at the time, was just a detour, a round about way of arriving at the very same destination where I rest today.
Detours will do that -- they force you off the road you planned to travel, through unknown territory, on a road that's a little rougher, a little less traveled than the main road. They generally take more time than what you allotted for the trip and leave you wondering where you are, how much longer it will take, and where and when you'll get back out on the road that you know leads to your destination.
"Detour Ahead" signs always make me say "crap!", but I realize I always enjoy the scenery, the new discoveries when I take roads I've never traveled, and sometimes find new routes that I prefer to the old one. I have to admit, though, I rarely take the official, marked detour, on main roads that are likely to take me way out of my way and waste lots of my time -- I usually try to find my own way on the little streets and roads that "the powers that be" don't want me to take, ones that help me avoid the traffic, the slow line of others who are blindly following the detour signs and who never question where there are or if there was a better way. I am more likely to get lost that way but I love the feeling of accomplishment when I get there on my own accord, on my own terms. Maybe that's my way of gaining control over the situation.
Life is full of detours. Knowing that I will prepare the best I can for them, with a full tank of fuel, a map that includes rest stops (aka bathrooms), and reverence for the unknown.
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