“If you get far enough away, you'll be on your way back home.”
I got an award to attend the 2024 Good World Journeys Salon in Greece. This Summer, I had the incredible opportunity to visit Patmos, and it was a heavenly, magical, and deeply special experience. My journey took me from my home in Oklahoma to Atlanta, followed by a flight to Athens, a train to the city, then bus ride to the pier, and finally a ferry to the small island of Patmos, in the Dodecanese region.
I jumped into the ocean, cried, laughed, danced, and got the best tan of my life—along with the best Χταπόδι με φάβα και σάλτσα κρασιού I’ve ever tasted. The purpose of this trip was to spend my days writing and learning from one of my favorite authors: Cheryl Strayed. They say never meet your idols, but Cheryl is hands down one of the most fascinating and down to earth badass I probably will ever meet. She has inspired me so much, and that is a gift you respect because it challenges you and it grows. Inspiration is the closest thing to magic in my world.
I was in Greece for two weeks, and it felt like a month. The pace of life shifted as I swam in the ocean every day, got to know the locals, attended a film festival, and heard stories from writers all over the U.S. These experiences are something I’ll remember for a long time.
The best thing this adventure gave me was a reminder of how cool I am. It reminded me that I am one of the coolest people I know, which means I will continue to do cool things—sometimes irreverent and completely out of left field.
I met this 84 year old man on the ferry on my way to Patmos. We were the only ones wearing face masks, you know… just in case. We had a great conversation and we discovered we had some things in common. We both arrived in the U.S. alone as teens, without speaking the language and were in a constant state of culture shock. Though he had family connections for a place to stay and I didn’t, the experience was similar: going from a place like Greece to a place like Ohio. For me, growing up by the Pacific ocean and finding myself in a place like Maple Valley. We left all we ever knew for a place we’d never been.
♫♪♪
“How does it feel
To be on your own, with no direction home
A complete unknown"
♫♪♪
Anyway, knowing I’d never see him again, I asked for a picture. He told me I was smart, and in the photo, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, as if I were his orphaned granddaughter.
This is not the first time I’ve taken a writing class with Cheryl Strayed. A few years ago I signed up for one of her writing classes in a remote hill in North Carolina, a place called “Art of Living Retreat Center” where I heard so many interesting stories and gut-wrenching experiences. All these stories were narrated by women. In some ways I understand now that getting through life will involve hearing the lamentations of the women, while I insist on staying true to myself as an unapologetic outsider among them. But of course, I am still human.
Cheryl Strayed, gets it. I think I knew that she did long before I ever met her. For example, she knows what is like to see your family disintegrate. Oh, and in her own words “feel like you can almost levitate from pain” CAN YOU RELATE?
Yes, I knew it. I always say that a unicorn can recognize another unicorn.
Someone caught the exact moment I asked her my questions, and I love when that happens. Meeting one of my role models, with the Greek sea in the background, sparkling waters all around, and me clearly too excited to keep my mouth shut and let Cheryl talk— all captured perfectly!
♫♪♪
Away, I’d rather sail away. Like a swan that’s here and gone.
♫♪♪
So do you want to know what I asked Cheryl? I asked her about heroin. I asked her about her dad: does it still hurt? I told her about my dad. I think she understood why I brought him up but not until I read what I wrote on the last day of the writing session. Everyone in the class was invited to read and share their work. I heard a lot of stories about mothers: ones who set themselves on fire (suicide attempt), the ones who died of cancer, the ones who were disabled, the ones who were friends, ones who never worked a day of their life (huh…) the ones who guilt-tripped endlessly. I stayed away from that. It’s not time yet. When I was in Patmos I wandered by myself most of the time, and I think it clicked for everyone when I read the piece I worked on, “Ahhh..she’s a lone wolf.” What I wrote and read to the group was a hybrid of scraps, things that happened a while ago, combined with things that were happening right there.
I don’t much share personal updates online anymore, you know.. ghosts. However, I’m feeling generous today and will add the last segment of what I wrote that day:
“Thank you Toni Morrison, thank you Cheryl, thank you Frida, thank you Kurt, Jonathan Larson, Ana Mendieta, Thank you Basquiat, thank you Tom Waits, and Virgil Abloh.
To all my day of the dead altars which I always dedicate to curiosity and death. To driving really fast on highway 54 and then crying when the song “Martha” comes on.
To Route 66 and old motels. To friends who are friends. To those who are on time. To big cherry blossoms. To Rickie Lee Jones and to Oklahoma too. "
So anyway… If i could tell you all that happened right before I got to Patmos... That’s its own Greek tragedy right there and a story reserved for the people in my life. Patmos is one of the most special, magical places I’ve ever spent time in. I made new friends, and answered some important personal questions while placating some restless thoughts. I said it wasn’t time to visit the theme of mothers back then, that’s because my next creative writing project will explore that next. I have the title ready, and I’m excited to dive into a topic I’ve been avoiding for probably forever. I guess Oklahoma does make you feel brave getting braver.
“There is no such thing as nonfiction. There is no such thing as truth. People who really know what happened aren't talking. And the people who don't have a clue, you can't shut them up.” -TW
To all the lone wolves out there, don’t forget: “Where there is love, nothing is too much trouble and there is always time.”
