Pre Hike 5 April 2018

It’s not easy to say goodbye.   And I find each moment when faced with uttering those words filled with weary confusion and waves of sadness.   So many final moments.  During the past few days I found myself thinking “this is the last time I will…”.   And then I would just move on without dwelling on the sentiment.   Because to give in to that kind of hyper emotional overdrive would unwillingly force me to question my decision to leave New York and contemplate missing the people and city I have grown to love.    I would then bask in a kind of misty regret that clung to a kind of thick nostalgia.  I just couldn’t do it.  So I let each moment quickly pass me by and then I suddenly became accepting of the goodbyes.   I set my gaze over the next few days and onward toward the PCT.   I looked past these proper final moments to see myself walking along a dusty path the went on and on and on.   And it felt good.  It felt incredibly good.   Yet later when I was alone in a quiet space, I silently began to miss everyone and everything.   But by then it was all too late and there were no more moments to cherish a fleeting goodbye. 

My last day at the gallery turned into a blazing frenetic series of events that left me exhausted 14 hours later when I turned off the lights, set the alarm and shut the door never to enter the space again as a gallery worker.   I thought I had planned it all out and given myself enough time to finalize projects and leave with confidence but the work never really ends.  And you just have to leave it and walk out the door.   So I left it.  I left it behind.   I braced myself for the impact of emotion.  It was so late that I took a car service home.   I looked across the East River to Manhattan and realized that I felt complete calm.   I had moved on.  There were no sudden tears or pangs of loss.  Everything felt remarkably brilliant.    The gallery would continue without me.    And I would continue living my life without the gallery.   I was now free to devote the next six months to the Pacific Crest Trail.  I was free.  And my laughter was genuine. And my eyes were lit with excitement.

And then I went to sleep.   And I slept with a rich heaviness that allowed my body to release the patterns of thick tension.  My limbs and joints and vessels just suddenly gave in and embraced my happiness.