I drove to Jekyll Island this Christmas. Going home to see family wasn't possible. I didn't really want to impose on friends and even if I did, I would still be going home to an empty house after the celebration. And I am finding so much healing in nature so thought another trip would do me good.
It's a balancing act between sitting in the stillness to process the grief from the divorce and rediscovering who I want to be as a single person by taking advantage of the freedom the divorce has given me. Sometimes those things happen in separate moments. And sometimes like yesterday, they happen simultaneously like yesterday morning.
After enjoying the sunrise on the beach near my hotel and grabbing breakfast, I set out on my kick scooter with a pond in mind. I had seen a report that Roseate Spoonbills had been spotted there recently. The details of the morning beyond that initial push to get out were fuzzy as I think I needed to just go out and get lost in order to find me.
It turned out that the pond was down an unmarked muddy road, just past an abandoned and overgrown amphitheater and that the paths to get to it were unmarked, included multiple twists and turns, and were a bit overgrown. Fear almost overcame me at various points as I didn't know exactly where I was or where I was going or what I would find when I got there. And there was not a soul in sight the entire adventure into the woods creating a bit of an eerie feeling as I jumped at the sounds of nature around me.
But then I suddenly found myself in the middle of that amphitheater filled with graffiti and I could see the pond just beyond it. As I approached the pond, my focus turned towards incredibly noisy Pileated Woodpeckers that I proceeded to follow through the trees. Eventually, a pair of noisy Anhingas and then some night herons that were fighting distracted me away from the woodpeckers. I followed another path around the pond to get a better view of them.
I think I spent at least an hour and a half in this forest with the pond and the amphitheater. I would like to say the more time I spent in that forest, the more comfortable I felt but I'm not sure that is completely true. As lost I got in the sounds and sights of the birds and my attempts to capture them with my camera, there was still this fear of the unknown and uncertain lurking beneath the surface. So before I left the area, I remember saying to myself, "I'm done facing this fear for now" and then I made my way back through the amphitheater and retraced my steps back to the main road.
I didn't let my exploring end there though. I continued along a number of bike paths on the island, stopping frequently to take in the sights, breathe in the air, and pause in the stillness. I stayed to marked, less isolated paths though.
This whole experience left me a bit unsettled, a bit stronger, and with a better understanding of me. I think the whole process of recreating yourself after such a life changing event is an unsettling process. You have to deconstruct yourself to find the pieces that are authentic to you so you can build from those. This means lots of moments of fearing the unknown you have to just sit through before you return to the comfortable.
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