Writer's Block

Writer’s Block.

This is a cafe in Anchorage, Alaska. 

I haven’t been inspired lately to write, or type, or even read for that matter. If I were to turn back a chapter in my life, I was a fien for the write life. 

Any emotion could easily be telephone boothed into a greater life’s message and an underwater experience I had was readily poofed into a 4 minute read. 

Then came December.

I stopped working out, I physically couldn’t turn a page after attempting to read 3 different books, “maybe this one will get me… perhaps this is the message I need…” and I was weeks late for my flow. No, I was not “worried.”  

I was blocked: physically, mentally and emotionally and didn’t know how to plunge the shit that was keeping me clogged. So I just kept going.

I wouldn’t say I am entirely out of it and don’t really like to soak in muddied waters but I did feel called to share about…Jim or Big Jim, “some people call me.” 

I met Jim on the shuttle ride to my hotel. Sixty-two years old, weathered, leathered and seriously jolly. I knew I needed a reality check but tainted by too many misinterpreted male to my happy-go-lucky flirty female experiences had left me flat and not wanting to interact. 

He didn’t seem to mind and instead started talking with the driver. When we arrived, I tipped the driver, politely told him to have a nice stay and shuffled my way in to check-in. It is late and there is an unexpected long line behind me… (let's keep this to the point)... I couldn’t check-in. 

Meanwhile, Jim was smooth sailing and already back to the front office with his pjs on, buying snacks, and calling the front lady by name while making his way to warm up his toes by the fireplace. 

I felt embarrassed for delaying the people behind me and so I stepped aside to let them go in front. I sat on the couch as my sinuses clogged clear thought, and making a call to a 1-800 number at 12AM terrified me. 

I visualized my special education students taking their deep breaths when things go wrong and mirrored my tiny teachers. 

With a watchful eye, Jim talked to the receptionist and patted me on the back. My connection-meter went up a tick and I found the energy to make the call, thank Jim for his offer and completed the task to clock-out for the night. 

Walking back to his room he called out, “remember, there are good people out there.” 

Fast forward a day and Jim and I are both checking-out. We shook hands and wished each other well on our next adventures as we made our way out into the Alaskan snowfall. 

…………………..

It has been almost five years since a life once known so intimately was divorced. My sister Stephanie shared with me that it can take almost 2 years post-partum to feel like yourself again. I haven’t felt like “myself” for almost five years. 

I have fallen in and out of temporary love, questioned my worth more times than the weather, and tried convincing myself to become a nun (or monk), coastie (or PJ), or anything that wasn’t who I currently was. 

You know those terrifying times when your toilet is so clogged but you keep hoping that by holding the lever it will magically go down - and it doesn’t. The shit soup just starts pouring over the ledge as you scramble for that little knob behind the porcelain bowl… 

I met Jim at a moment where I couldn’t even find the gumption to bend down and look for that knob. I was full of so much shit that learning how to swim in it felt like a better option than learning how to grab for the buoy. 

“Remember, there are good people out there.” 

…………………..

I made a choice that night: Alexis either drown in your own shit soup or, let certain people in again. Trust yourself. Trust that you know the way and people can wait. 

Your greatest teachers are those found in nature, where nothing is rushed. Remember a river’s clog blocks the Salmon from gaining strength to move forward. Remove your perceived dams and find strength in your wildest, craziest pursuits. 

If that person or job or thing is not there when you are ready - it is okay. Perhaps that was simply a temporary teacher, a pollinator, a catalyst. I heard once that people come into your life for either a reason, season or a lifetime. I think I might understand this now. This lifetime is going to be my faith and trust in the process of continual change. 

Big Jim, you were there that night for a reason. I write this today to give thanks to you for turning that damn silver lever as I struggled to stay afloat that night. 

Thank you for your years of service in the Navy, as a diver. This one is for You. 

#seaempathy

The Lower Granite Dam on the Snake River is one of four dams on the Snake River that would be slated for removal in proposal made by an Idaho congressman. (Photo courtesy of US Army Corp of Engineers)