By Christina Solstad
I breathed a sigh of relief as I got beyond the craziness of Los Angeles and out onto the open road. I pulled out my first tape—one my uncle had sent following his heart attack several years ago. He was full of appreciation for the brilliance of the sun, the green of the trees, the caring people around him, and the simple things.
No longer was life a daily grind or something to be taken for granted; his words were a good reminder of the magic of everyday life. I took note and started thinking about my own life. The open road helped me to unwind and leave my daily cares behind.
It was somewhere between Barstow and Needles, between my uncle’s tape and the relationship tapes, that I had my first big “ah-ha.” It seemed so obvious, why hadn’t I seen this before?
I had spent much of my life feeling like I was doing something “wrong”—like somehow others held the key to the right way to do things.
What if I simply changed my thinking—that I always did something right? What a concept! Driving alone, uninterrupted, was providing a new clarity to my thinking. This was my time, and I was loving it.
For more of the story:
The Road to Chaco—A Journey to Myself (Part 1 of 4)
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