"Some voice said,
Here's a map, drive off it.
When do I come back? I asked
You don't." *
near Mill Creek Bridge, CA
Highway 1 (PCH) a bit south of the Bug Sur Landslide
This haunting: some parts still remember being stuck in pretend straight. My pulse still quicken, adrenalin still rushes in anxiety at times, and then I remember that was then. Now is different. Some time ago, back in some other part of the journey, I once startled at the long-held premonitions of "driving off the map?" Now I can call it: "my journey toward wholeness." Some rumble, from beyond the joys of today, groan on about loneliness and rejection from others--voices once believed.
Here's a map, drive off it.
When do I come back? I asked
You don't." *
On vacation with my partner,
near Mill Creek Bridge, CA
June 2025
near Mill Creek Bridge, CA
Highway 1 (PCH) a bit south of the Bug Sur Landslide
This haunting: some parts still remember being stuck in pretend straight. My pulse still quicken, adrenalin still rushes in anxiety at times, and then I remember that was then. Now is different. Some time ago, back in some other part of the journey, I once startled at the long-held premonitions of "driving off the map?" Now I can call it: "my journey toward wholeness." Some rumble, from beyond the joys of today, groan on about loneliness and rejection from others--voices once believed.
It was only a few, who could not accept gay. Many are just fine with gay, even before I was okay with admitting to myself--"I am gay". Most were just fine with gay. The journey, that map, wasn't pointing towards a destination, as in a gay destination. It was pointing to life. "Drive off the map!" It was a solid directive. A disturbing one, and one that called to me long. One that re-routed my life in really good ways.
I have lived "trying" not to be gay. I have lived being me: gay. You don't 'drive'-back to that closet, and you don't "come back" from being free. Life so much larger and charted than some maps.
Those fear-rumbles were only the boulders of truth tumbling down the hill to take out the fragile dictums and re-route the well established rutted lanes of hellbent, tortured thought. Depending on which side of that landslide--like the Big Sur Landslide**--there is no way forward on at least that piece of highway. Finding another route is paramount.
Re-routing around, I found a way to be myself. Life seemed to stop, and then a re-grounding. Not the whole earth moved, but an important part. The before and after, is too linear. We are more than just our past or our present. Our futures unfold, and still something keeps pulling me to not stay content with well-charted territories. Maybe we are really built for adventure.
* Pg 22 of "Kitchen Hymns by Padraig O'Tuama
**Big Sur landslide has blocked the pacific coastal highway for a few years now. The scenic route around San Francisco South to Los Angeles, was a detour over the mountain through Fort Hunter Liggett on Nacimiento-Fergusson Road. Highly recommend in non-fire season.
Morro Bay, California
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