Breaking In, Breaking Out

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Thursday, August 9 ~
An Omen?

This final morning in this Albuquerque hotel, I wake up to a dream about another Albuquerque hotel -- the one around the corner I'll be checking into later today.

In the dream, I'm standing in the parking lot of this second hotel. As I gaze up at the building, I remark with some surprise that this hotel is such a powerful vortex that I ought to create an energy drawing of it.

I think nothing of the dream until...


Friday, August 10 ~ Breaking In

It's my first morning in the new hotel. The telephone rings, jarring me out of a deep sleep and a dream about...about something.

It's the front desk.

"Your car," the concerned voice says. "It's been broken into."

I stumble out of bed, into some clothes and out to the parking lot. A police cruiser is parked next to my minivan, an officer jotting down notes from the sea of shattered glass at his feet.

As I peer anxiously through the now-missing driver's-side window, I try to determine what's been taken -- not an easy task given how jam-packed the car is from my 30 months (to the day) of full-time travel.

"Don't touch anything," the officer cautions, as I poke my head into the car, doing my best to avoid the stray shards of glass still clinging to the door frame. I can't open the door until it's been dusted for prints, he says. Just like on TV.

Unlike on TV, my car is parked at the security camera's only blind spot. The camera captured nothing usable.

Bad news for the thief: he captured little of significant monetary value.

Bad news for me: the cases he grabbed (thinking that they held computer equipment) contained identity-related documents, including bank and credit card statements.

I spend most of the day in shock, too busy on the phone with glass, insurance, bank and credit card companies to deal with the deeper meaning of the incident.

The only thing that keeps pounding through my head is the phrase "breaking patterns."



Tuesday, August 14 ~ Breaking Out I

It's funny. I've been on the road for nearly three years, everything I own stuffed into my van. Through that time, I've never felt at risk, nor have I spent any time worrying about the security of my belongings.

Yet here I am, noticing a new missing something every time I step into the car.

It's interesting to me that the break-in occurred during daylight hours and that no other car in the lot was stolen. It's also interesting what was taken. It's almost as though the perpetrator was directed to my car and was guided what to take.

Among other MIA (missing in action) items are
• the bulk of my art supplies
• the digital audio recorder I use to record my sessions, teleconferences and live events
• a variety of documents and other objects relating who I have been and how I have viewed the world

Unthreatened and untouched are my copies of The MoonQuest and anything and everything related to my writing.

Now I see one of the patterns that shattered along with my car window: My work with healing art and sound. Whatever my future vibrational offerings, I know now that they will look and sound different than they have in the past.

It's in this moment that I feel called to make way for the new by offering my complete inventory of sound initiation/activation CDs at clearance prices. [See my August 14 newsletter, The Sounds of Change.]

Throughout my adult life and regardless of whatever else I've been doing, my primary focus has always returned to writing and related activities. Today and as a result of the break-in, it appears to be doing so once again.


Wednesday, August 15 ~ Breaking Out II

Until this morning, my thought has been that I would stay in New Mexico through the fall, perhaps hitting the road again with The MoonQuest after the holidays. To that end, I've been searching out furnished rentals on Craig's List.

It's a pattern I've followed through my 30 months of full-time travel: periods of being on the road interspersed with stops of various length in furnished sublets and vacation rentals.

This morning that pattern, too, fractures and dissolves.

As I drive to the bank to deal with more identity-related fallout from the break-in, wondering en route why I'm not finding any suitable furnished rentals, my mind wanders back more than a dozen years -- to a meditative walk I took in Nova Scotia just after returning to work on The MoonQuest after a seven-month hiatus.

It was on that walk that I knew it was time to leave my furnished rental and find a new place that was unfurnished.

As I recall that long-ago walk, a 2007 version of my 1994 knowingness washes over me: It really is time to stop. To truly stop. To drop anchor. To land. To create not only a home base but a home.

My first thought, as it was 13 years ago, is that I have nothing with which to fill an unfurnished house. My second thought also parallels my Nova Scotia experience: Trust, and it will be fine.


Monday, August 20 ~ Breaking Out III

Hobby Lobby, a regional crafts chain, is running a mega sale on art supplies this week. Is that a sign, I wonder, to replace my stolen colored pencils?

Once in the store, I study my options and settle on a set of watercolor pencils.

Yet as I drive away with my new purchase, it feels all wrong. To my shock, I realize I don't miss my old colored pencils and don't want new ones.

My desire to draw hasn't vanished. But all I want now is a few plain sketch pencils to play with.

Another old pattern makes way for the new.

It's time, I realize, to add my inventory of healing art to my selloff of the past.



Friday, August 24 ~ Breaking Out IV

In my frequent moments of overwhelm this week, I ask for confirmation of my decision to drop anchor.

The signs and signals, while not abundant, are eloquent.

Perhaps the earliest, gone unnoted at the time, was the realization that my thick stack of membership cards in frequent-hotel-guest plans was taken -- probably because it looked like a collection of credit cards.

A more recent indicator (for the author of a book titled The MoonQuest) is that the house I'm most drawn to has the word moon as part of its street address.

A phone call today is the capper: Even though I have no house yet, I've been offered my first housewarming present.


Saturday, August 25 ~ The Eagle Has Landed

I have just signed a one-year lease on a house that is everything I asked for...and more. I'm excited and abundantly grateful, even as tremors of anxiety continue to ripple through me.

It's been 15 days since the break-in. Each of those days might as well have been a year for all the openings and transformations that have occurred since that morning.

There have also been many synchronicities and miracles through that time, and I know that at least as many will carry me forward into whatever's next.

Are my traveling days over? I wouldn't dare suggest that. Nor would I dare guess what lies ahead.

All I think I know is that writing will remain an integral part of it...whatever "it" is.

These New Earth Chronicles will likely continue in some form. After all, the New Earth we are co-creating won't disappear just because I'm experiencing it from a less mobile perspective. My newsletter, too, will live on in its own as-yet-to-be-determined way.

Meantime, I'll continue to promote and market The MoonQuest, work toward completion of its sequel and move forward with publication of my book on writing, The Voice of the Muse: Answering the Call to Write.

Through all that, I'll do my best to stay open to whatever gifts and growth await me on this next phase of my journey...wherever it carries me.

Thanks for being one of those gifts!


• Save up to 75% on healing art and CDs at my Web Store.

• Order your copy of The MoonQuest today -- through www.themoonquest.com or through Amazon.com using this direct link. Or click here for a list of retailers who carry the book.





Photos and Art by Mark David Gerson.
#1 Santa Fe sunflowers; #2 Albuquerque sunset; #3 Waxing moon over the Sandias; #4 Drawing #117 "Portal to Your Passion"