BOOK TO BLOG


WOW!!
It’s been almost a year since my last blog post and what a year it’s been. I took the summer of 2018 off to isolate myself and to finish a much anticipated book about my urban backpacking trek from NYC to Miami; if you don’t know, I walked 983 miles in 198 days and had 98 strangers who welcomed me into their homes and who supported my journey through lodging, food and emotional support. Though the almost 1000 mile journey is an adventure/survival story in itself, the real story is the strangers who welcomed me and the churches who shut their doors on me. 

In 2002, when I was called to walk and trust the path, I had no underlining intention but to give it all up, walk down the coast and let God guide my life after that. I had no idea that this journey would affect so many people, both the strangers who helped me and the people on social media who were following my day to day trek.  To this day, I still receive messages and email from FB fans who share how my journey has affected their lives. Our media climate has drilled the idea that we are to be scared of life and scared of one another, and for the most part, my trek proved the opposite. There are more great people in our country who want to extend a helping hand compared to the ‘bad’ people who were virtually non existent on my trek; a stranger helping a complete stranger who is randomly backpacking down the street is certainly something to write about. It happened over 98 times in 6 months. I was a sweaty backpacker who was a sight for sore eyes and was helped by Samaritan-Americans who were put in my path. 
The twist is this. 
Oddly, some churches who I asked to sleep outside their building for a night felt very differently about me. They didn’t like what they saw. They feared my presence and doubted my intention. At first this was very unsettling for me since I was a sober woman with a backpack who wanted nothing more than a piece of concrete to lay her sleeping bag down after a long days trek. I was very surprised with their reluctance to help me but I still trusted the path. What the church didn’t know was that their scrutiny and speculation put me in Jesus’s sandals and their rejection of me created a spiritual awakening that ultimately taught me what Jesus went through, and furthermore, introduced me to a personal relationship with a sandal wearing God. That is why I trust the path. When things don’t seem to be working out but you trust the path, it all works out.
Amen and Wow!

My struggle:
I’ve been struggling in the writing process for many reasons. I’m not a writer by trade or desire, and I got rid of all my worldly possessions and left NY to chill, not produce. It turns out that writing a book is a major production, at least for me. I sought out a major ghostwriter to help me finish the book and make it into a cohesive piece but the writer that I spoke with wanted to make it into a masterpiece that would make a lot of money. Obviously, money is not my motivator so this particular ghostwriter was not meant to be. I felt that the real message, the real story would be lost in his translation and God would lose if I chose major money and major notoriety as a motivation.
So, I went back to my computer and continued to type out chapters. I tried to make it into a flowing piece but it read like a journal, not a book.
(Yikes) 
With the day to day approach, the book is long and I’ve been told that it reads more like a blog than a book, so instead of finding someone to turn it into a story, I’ve taken that bit of advise and am going to share my ‘book that reads like a blog’ with you on my website. 
Day by day. 
Chapter by chapter. 
You will experience my journey and feel my experience. 
Free.
I look forward to sharing my love of life, love of God and the imperfect me who was once a mess that miraculously came back to life by trusting her path.
           ~The Curious Bohemian

      

Please click the ‘follow’ button on my blog. I also would love it if you commented on the chapters so I know how you like them and how they read. There will be several chapters in an ‘Introduction’ that gives you insight as to what led my decision to give it all up and walk. This content is quite personal and will help the reader understand me as a flawed human being who decided to seek a purpose driven life with no stuff. 
I pray that the reading audience will be respectful, but in the event that they aren’t, I will continue to trust God’s path for me.
Namaste.

HEADING NORTH



It’s so nice to be writing in any place that I land. Being here for a month and isolated in a house with nowhere to go was really the perfect way to discipline myself and to create a solid writing routine. You must remember that I’m not an educated writer. I’ve come into this project with no writing skills and a true fear of it. It’s been wonderful to receive such positive reinforcement from outsiders when they read my stuff. That alone has been a major encouragement to sit down and get it done. 
The past month has been so productive. Though I miss my ‘Southern Man’ terribly, we communicate every day and are accepting of this time apart. He gets to go on some motorcycle trips with his friends and I get to relive the most exciting time of my life. 

AM I A 21st CENTURY PEACE PILGRIM?


Meet 'Peace'!
That's actually her name.
She adopted the name in 1953 and then walked across the United States for 28 years advocating against war, and for peace. Her birth name was Mildred Lisette Norman but during her pilgrimage no one ever knew her by her birth name. They called her 'Peace' because that was her legal name. 
During my North-South trek from NYC to Miami, one of my couchsurfing hosts who lived in Elkton, Maryland specifically put this book on the end table next to the couch that I would be sleeping on. 
He didn't tell me about it.
I didn't see it the first day that I was there but it came into sight on the second day. It actually was laying there in a very obvious place but I guess I was too fatigued to notice, but when I did see it, time stood still. 

SOMEONE CUT MY ANCHOR LINE


I looked out to the anchorage to check on my little boat from shore and she was gone. 
Gone? How could that be? 
"Where is my boat?", I asked my 'Southern man'.
His facial expression said it all. 
He was as confused as I was.
He didn't know either.

LOSE YOUR SELF

(Image courtesy of Jeffrey Foote Photography)
I realized in this life, I had the option to believe in God or in my 'self'.

When I believed in my 'self', or pacified my ego,
I was limited to only what I could do; 
only what human flesh can do.
When I connected to God, my internal Spirit, the possibilities in my life became limitless and my personal power much stronger.

MORE THAN HUMAN IN THE SACRED VALLEY


Though my 'whiteness' may remind them of my colonial forefathers and foremothers,
no one disrespects me here.
Though their desire is to have their country all to themselves, 
they accept my 'time' here.
I am everywhere that they are.
I shop at their markets, 
I walk their streets, 
I visit their ancient land, 
I am in their space.
They need me and they must hate that, 
if they hate anything at all.

PEACE RULES IN THE PLASTIC BUBBLE




I opened my eyes and it was dark. 
He stood standing looking through the plastic window of the cockpit at the moon lit night in front of him.
"Is it my turn to watch?', I asked.
"Whenever you're ready baby", he responded.
stretched my body as long as it could stretch on the padded bed and elongated as much as possible. It was my turn to take watch so my 'Southern Captain' could get a few hours sleep. I removed the blanket from my overly clothed body and sat up.
"It's a gorgeous night out there", I said, "A perfect night actually."
I got up from my side of the cockpit and straightened out the covers. He was still looking outside and I had to share this moment with him. I leaned myself up against him from behind and gave him a kiss on the neck.