From Grace: Playing the Ball Where the Monkey Drops It

In colonial times, the British built golf courses in India to offer them the same recreation as back home. But they did not foresee the monkey problem. Monkeys loved to take the balls and run off with them. They tried all sorts of things to keep the monkeys from taking the golf balls - including building tall fences, luring them away, cutting back the jungle, trapping them (the list is long), etc. As time went on and they had tried dozens of cures, they finally concluded that there was nothing to be done to keep the monkeys from the golf courses.

So instead, the made a new rule for British golf courses (for in India only, of course): You must play the ball where the monkey drops it.

And that is what Kevin and I are doing now, I feel. We are playing the ball where the monkey drops it. We don't know where he will drop it, when he will drop it, or if he will even drop it at all. He might chew on it first, or even swallow it. We just don't know from minute to minute.

In other words, there are no guarantees. We are traveling and coping and learning and adapting. We had to stay in Yuma, AZ recently much longer than we wanted to for repairs to Gordito. We like full hookups, but don't like to pay too much for sites. We like the ammenities of RV parks, but not the noise and crowd. We are now trying to figure out how boondocking works for us. Our list is long too.

All this to say that there is a new flexibility requirement with this lifestyle that I, as a recovering control-freak, am attempting (most of the time, unsuccessfully) to navigate.

And I am certain that this part of our journey is just as important for me (us) as seeing the sights and traveling the land. It feels monumental for me to radically accept that I am not in control of pretty much anything except how I react and respond to what and who is around me, to realize that I want freedom more than I want to continue that fight.

So yesterday I danced with trees. We are now near Williams, AZ in Kaibab Lake Camp Ground, and it is beautiful here. And it has been hella windy (yes, I said hella). The tall, straight, pine trees protect us down below from the gusts, but we can hear the wind in the treetops. I can see them sway and hear them creak - which is one of my all-time fave things on our planet. So yesterday I grabbed onto a nearby tree and let it take me dancing.

It was like following a micro-blues lead on the dance floor - only a thousand times better. I could feel the subtle shifts and sway. I could hear the "music" (wind through the treetops). I had to focus and get quiet inside to be able to follow. I had to ground. I had to settle. I had to wait for the next gust of wind. I had to be patient and trust my lead. I had to let go of any judgements about anyone walking by and possibly seeing me hugging and dancing with a tree. I had to stop trying to control anything. I had to let go while still holding on.

And it was one of the most wondrous things I have ever allowed myself to do, one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever given myself. I highly recommend it. It's a great lesson in following, in allowing, in just Being.

I have no profound end to this rant. Maybe it's just about allowing - on the dance floor, in life, in our hearts, in our minds, in our dear bodies. I don't really know. I am still learning, and we are simply doing our best to play the ball where the monkey drops it.