The Bicycle Diaries:  Journeys of Purpose

“I now know, by an almost fatalistic conformity with the facts, that my destiny is to travel…” 
― Ernesto Guevara, The Motorcycle Diaries

After the first stage of London transitioning was over, it was time to return to Florida chef life for a few months to replenish the bank account, setting myself up for future, stage two of London life and literary goals.  I would leave city and return to sea.  I launched the rocket of desire into the universe and within a few weeks landed a chef gig on a sportfishing yacht in Jupiter, Fl.  Typically, my work was out of Fort Lauderdale or Miami but somehow, I had manifested work in Jupiter, which just so happened to be where my best gals live.  Lucky me.  Typically, too, I worked on larger luxury yachts running insane programs, catering to guests while overcoming impossible 14 hours days without breaks or time to eat.  But this program was relaxed, significantly less stress, less crew, and less demands.  

Back in the beloved Bahamas, we would leave the dock around 10 A.M. to fish every day and return around 4 P.M.  Dinner service was over by 7:30, and if I was efficient, could be finished and in my cabin for 9:00, relaxing.  Unheard of early, but I would gratefully take it.  Work was still demanding on my body and because it was a smaller boat, I had to assume the dual role of Chef/Stewardess, not only cooking for four other people, but making the owners’ bed, doing laundry, and keeping the boat’s interior looking sparkling brand new.  Let’s be honest though, as exhausted as I was, I was on a boat in the Bahamas, cruising the most exquisite chain of islands, called the Exumas.  The mermaid in me relished this blue contact.  Grateful for it all, I gave it my all, still on my mission of making as much money as possible in a short, few months so I could get back as soon as possible to my writing.  

Creating beautiful meals is a type of artistry, and I enjoyed it, but when I was not immersed in the artistry of writing, I died a bit inside.  Connected and wrapped in the creative zone flow is when I feel the most alive.  Piecing together the ideas or images painted in my mind and crafting them into lyrical, figurative language is what most fuels me.  I missed feeling this fullness of me.  Yachting is already part-soul-sucking for crew members, but my hole was being sucked deeper, lacking the feeling of not working at my greater purpose through writing.  

The family I was freelancing for asked me to stay on the program longer and would require that when not on boat trips, I work at their home.  Having sold my car the previous year in order to completely facilitate my first move to Europe, commuting could have been an impossible commitment.  The U.S. breeds car culture, and unless you lived in one of the big cities like New York or Chicago, you were unlikely to have a public transportation system, and if you did, it was usually unsafe to ride because of bums.  But I would make the situation work, and luckily my dear friend would lend me her upscale bike in order to do so.  I pedaled my ass to work at their house each day, 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes back to the boat in the dark.  If I had a weekend off, I’d pedal the hour back to my friend’s home and the hour back to work Monday morning.  

In the beginning, everyone and their mother objected out of concern for my safety.  Yet, those that know me well, know that if I set my mind to do something, I stubbornly stick to it; I was determined, and while safely riding sidewalks, took the positives from the commute.  I enjoyed the workout… the wind in my face, sun on my skin, an interesting podcast or some soul inspiring music through my EarPods.  The stretch along Singer Island, too, was candy to the senses.  I mean people vacation down here for this shit, and there I was reaping in the scenery of palm trees, ridiculous homes, and sunlight dancing sparkles on the water alongside me.  Although cumbersome with a backpack often full of heavy provisions, with the right perspective, I saw beauty and freedom propelling me forwards.

Now, I never said any of this was easy.  The first weeks I wrestled with my psyche intensely.  I was a chef, what am I doing cleaning toilets too?  Leaving the house in the dark and bundling myself up in my wind breaker, I would question why the fuck I was there.  I mean, I had accepted a position where I was making almost half of what I could be earning freelancing off in the Caribbean somewhere for month-long stints.  If my goal was to make as much money as possible in a short time, so I could support myself through the next season (while continuing work on my short story and sequel novel while trying to get published,) then, what the fuck, universe?  Body aching from standing and chopping all day, I still had to bike myself to my bed.  Through the occasional rain storm, through splattering mud puddles, the odd tree branch smacking me in the face, dodging cars… Then I would catch a glimpse of the brilliant stars showing off in the clear night sky, sigh, then remember the magic gifted to my life.  For one, I felt completely valued by the woman I worked for, and she just so happened to also be a published author!  Her ex-husband just so happened to be my college professor for fiction writing my senior year.  Two, this particular work schedule afforded me a “base” with quality time with my girlfriends, who I rarely got to see, deepening our bonds.  Although exhausted, I had time–albeit limited–to maintain and strengthen my relationship with my beloved man back in London, messaging, and video-chatting– my heart alive with our connection.  These interpersonal relationships didn’t have a price.  They sustained me.       

Bicycling also afforded me time for contemplation.  Majority of days it seemed like the whole world was burning–hurricanes, fires, wars, politics, impingement of freedoms, the onset of AI technology– I would reflect on the state of the world, hoping that humanity would wake up and rise up.  I would remind myself to serve by being light, being love– as cliché as that may sound.  Emanate my JOY.  This greater care for humanity and elevating consciousness was exactly what propelled the urgency of my writing.  My novel, Unforgetting, was all about humanity re-remembering that which it has forgotten– the power of our beautiful, love-filled divine selves.  The sequel, Anodos, would be the antidote to ascending once this inner truth is remembered and realized.  How I yearned for this art that I had dedicated so much of my energy and years to, to be filtered out like little golden strings and read, working its magic.  

Begrudgingly, I questioned my life, wondering if my “dream” of becoming an internationally successful author with an impact would ever manifest.  Condemned as a lover and weaver of words, was I crazy for having this vision?  Would my works ever touch the lives of readers?  All I had to show for up until now was a published poetry book on Amazon, that had once reached top 20 success, which only granted me meager royalties.  I had very luckily scored two meetings with publishers while in London, with one graciously making efforts to get my manuscript to the most suitable editor amongst his circle of Imprints.  But without much recent correspondence, I doubted that anything would come of it.  As for querying the literary agencies, because of my manuscript’s non-mainstream nature, all I had gotten up until now were responses from agents saying they “didn’t feel they were the right fit for my project, and best of luck.”  I confidently believed in my novel series, but if I didn’t see much evidence that this was going to someday work out, then how could I continue to believe in such grand possibilities?

Do you, my reader, know what your true purpose is?  This purpose word is often misconstrued into unrealistic expectations of grandiosity, but really, its spectrum starts from the most minute– it’s endless.  Have you, ever had such a strong inner knowing that you were meant or destined to do something?  It’s these feelings that we must pay attention to, hold on to.  This is the kind of incantation that burns inside me.  It is so clear my mission and yet, even with that knowing, I had had my hopes hyped up and burned down too many times to count, and the truth was, I wavered.  It was a process, but I came to learn first-hand that the wavering, the inner conflict, the challenges, the no’s, are all a part of the process, and essentially getting you closer to your dream.  A dear friend was instrumental in reflecting this truth back to me, and I gained revelatory peace alongside my angst.

Turns out that same stubborn drive to bike myself to work each day suited me in that I wasn’t giving up on my dream.  Even though it seemed obsolete, abstract, a strange, far-off figment, nonetheless in a far-off country not my own, where I knew few people, I would ride the wave of doing the impractical and what many would deem uncomfortable.  Bottom line:  I would hold on to the goal with determination and drive, taking one step and then the next.  I had the power and responsibility to choose how much I would let myself struggle during the process.  I would create a life where I was fulfilling and feeling the gratification of doing my purpose.  With that life I could indeed create the home-base my heart desired and the cat to go along with it.  

Riding a bike to work and cleaning toilets on top of cheffing were not the most ideal of situations but I realized it afforded me connections.  It afforded me the experiences in which the facets of myself could be reflected back to me.  Areas in which I shone and areas in which I could grow.  Thankfully I had family and friends who had proven their unwavering belief in me and my vision.  Life had shown me that it is often the “unseen spectrum”– that realm which happens on an energetic level, which is more purposeful and impactful than garnering society’s typical expectancies.  That the Divine has a greater plan that you aren’t aware of.  Your presence in a certain place and situation can be much more about an energy exchange rather than a financial exchange, and so it can be wise of you to get out of attempting to control circumstances and allow for the greater plan to unfold, through trust, through surrender– even if suddenly, your Beloved decides to disappear from your life from one day to the next.  Trust.   

Getting to where you’re going for a dream or manifestation means determined pedaling.  The road ahead may include hills which you have to use more strength in order to pedal up.  You may have to dodge traffic, submit to the elements, may suddenly get stopped at bridges . . . but isn’t it beautiful watching the scene waiting for the boats to pass beneath you?

Internal struggles are a real thing, but you can come out of them having been molded and often with greater clarity.  Going after your dreams takes courage.  So even if the path looks impossible and others do not understand your resolve, somehow, you have to keep pedaling.  Despite how many hills to climb.  The beauty is the view, and eventually you will always reach your destination.

Rooftop Dreams

In the sky we climb
High into the night
so painted with glory
So trickling with love
Hold me a bit longer
Let me show you the stars
Between kisses and dreams
I sleep you awake

Take me on this journey
Led by the stretches of your fingers 
Reaching ardently for me 
Contained without being constrained 
Into the hollows of these clouds. 
Now is the time for dreams 
Realized, and released, sublimated, conjoined.
Float them into the sky
For your time is now
Do not deny all that you are becoming 
Hold fast, hold still 
Let me show you the new story
Unfolding and exploding 
Fireworks the emblem 
And your voice the key
Casting spells, harmonizing 
A new hum 
Tomorrow things will be different