The One Hundred Lives of One Daring Nomad

Once Upon A Time…

there were three orphaned elves who lived in the misty, cool mountains. They were brave and daring as they crossed ravenous rivers, journeyed through enchanted forests, and befriended the strange beasts that inhabited their world. And why? Because they were on a quest. A quest to find the witch who killed their parents. Their names? Bon Bon, Dum Dum and Cream Puff. Their names may sound silly, but all elves take sugary names, didn’t you know? For what better legacy is there to leave, than one that is both sweet and delightful?

No, this is not a short fiction story I am writing, though perhaps I will.

The truth of the matter is, I was Bon Bon.

My baby brother, Cream Puff. My little sister, Dum Dum.

I secretly snickered at her name.

She didn’t really want it, but I convinced her it was fun and awesome and not-at-all-demeaning-of-her-wits. Right. Poor tormented younger siblings.

Either way, the above is the very-real-true-life-adventure of three siblings with crazy imaginations.

We hid beneath our trampoline (i.e. cave of salvation) in threadbare play clothes and barefoot when it was barely above freezing temperatures and raining.

My six year old brother cried, “But Whiiitney..I mean Bon Bon……I’m cooooold!” (In another life, I went by Whitney. You can read that HERE.)

“Good! We’re orphaned elves! We should be cold!”

I was so obsessed with experiencing the extremes.

To know what it felt like to survive. To be cold and hungry and overcome.

I may have pushed them too far.

They were quite accommodating of my shenanigans up to a point. Then, it really was best to just head indoors for some tomato soup and grilled cheese.

“Wait, you guuuys! Come back! We could put on jackets I guess. Just a little longer! We can pretend to discover some berries to eat!”

That usually worked.

When I reflect on the way I played “extreme dress up” as a child, it makes sense that I chose a nomadic lifestyle as an adult.

I wanted to know what other people knew. I wanted to feel what other people felt.

I created so many made up scenarios so I could pretend to be in their shoes, and conjure up all the emotions I might possibly have to wrestle with if it was my life.

Now that I consider it, this is probably where my high EQ comes in and why I sought non-profit jobs and other helping positions.

Now, I am focusing on writing. Now, I am learning to create, relate and transmute those things I know or feel about the human heart into the characters I write into being.

But not only that, now I really am living in extremes. I am not just playing dress up anymore.

OK, OK. I really am still playing dress up and that makes me incredibly glad!

Because the truth of slow travel is that I get to try on as many hats as I want to.

In Argentina, I learned to care for horses and to sheer sheep and ride a tractor.

La Nazarena Horse Barn

I played dress up as a farm girl, a country road bring me home girl, and a drinker of starshine, moonbeams and lighting bug light.

In the mountains of El Bolson, I romped barefoot through the wilderness, up glaciers, swam in the crystalline blue river and drank home brewed mountain beers.

Lost in the cloudsThis was as close to Bon Bon as I have ever been. Well, she didn’t drink beer at the time.

I traipsed through prickly bushes and rocky paths on the side of a mountain overlooking a snaking river, and watched the jagged peaks disappear in the clouds.

The forest has a hundred facesThere were mossy woods with grinning faces, and dark, dead forests with bewitching light and eerie moans.

There was a lagoon of a pistachio cream color so magical that I felt for sure I was in the dream land my child brain concocted so many years ago.

The Lagoon at Hielo Azul

I played dress up as if I was one part hobbit, one part gypsy, one part native american.

I felt wild and old souled. I felt ancient and wise as well as playful and impish.

On my 600 mile walk to Finisterre, at the end of the world in Spain, I was a medieval pilgrim.

I felt in my bones the weight of my pack. I felt in my joints the weariness of walking miles, and miles, and miles before I slept.

To the end of the worldI knew the pure peace of solitude and the joy of company and friends during an arduous journey.

I stood at the End of The World….like Reepicheep, like Bilbo, like…me….a true blooded adventurer slash explorer.

Yes, I said slash and if you ever watched The Little Mermaid 2 you are already humming the tune.

In Paris, I was the inspiration, the woman, the muse behind the Mona Lisa, the Victory at Samothrace and Psyche. I was manifest beauty, light, life and wisdom.

Victory at Samothrace

On the beaches of Costa Rica, I was Karana from “Island of the Blue Dolphins.” I imagined I was stranded on those wild, virgin beaches and learned the secrets of the sea, the mystery of the waves under the moon.

Mama Banyan I climbed into the heart of a banyan tree and listened to her stories.

In all of these adventures, I connect and become more in tune with my own Essence.

And in my one, small life, I get to experience a hundred lives.

Tell me if that is not a priceless gift.

Perhaps we had it right as children.

Perhaps the only way to live is with our imaginations at full throttle and our curiosity blasting at the highest possible decibel.

I guess what I’m realizing is this:

I have not stopped playing dress up and creating adventures for myself.

Just because I am taller doesn’t mean the clothes don’t fit.

Because here’s the other awesome truth I have only begun to learn:

If I imagine it….

it becomes.

If I dream it…

it unfolds.

If I love it, hold it, cherish it, want it…

it arrives.

Sometimes it arrives 20 years later when you’re scrambling over rocks, in and out of caves in the wilderness of Patagonia with your lover, only to realize that the river, the rocks, the waterfall, the forest….is a replica of that dream you used to dream of your own special “paradise.”

The one you used to imagine for yourself as you drifted off to sleep.

The one with the beautiful wood where you would run barefoot and free, unafraid of wildebeests or witches .

One day you’d find it. One day perhaps…long after the final sleep found you and a savior returned.

But I’m telling you, I woke up.

The Savior arrived in the form of my own heart rising.

And now the dreams I dreamed, the literal dreams…I am talking, the total-wonderful-wanderings of my child’s mind, are very real and alive and with me now.

So this is why I travel.

I can’t help it anymore. I want to feel everything.

I was a weird kid who played out in the rain, eyes turned toward the storm clouds daring them to come at me.

I wasn’t budging.

It took me awhile to fight with that kind of tenacity as an adult.

To face my true heart’s desire and go for it. To realize I created my reality.

To stand bravely against the chaos of the world and say “Bring it on! Is that all you got?!”

And now?

Chaos has become my friend, my partner, my peace.

The unknown is a fascinating and beautiful place to be.

Because from here…

anything is possible.

Love,

Bon Bon

A Marzipan Moon: Winning my first short fiction contest

“Holy Guacamole! A mocha yule log?”

That was the anagram I came up with for Black Ink’s 2015 Holiday Short Fiction Contest that I entered less than a week ago.

I have been challenging myself to write fiction for the past couple of months.

Fiction is terrifying, or it was.

It is less so now that I have been flexing my imaginative muscles.

Little by little, like my handstand practice, I get stronger and more balanced.

It was time to test the waters.

It was time to put myself out there for more practice.

Dave encouraged me to search for writing contests.

He said it would give me new topics to write on and “could be fun!” and “Hey! You never know, you might win!”

I found out about this contest the day before the deadline.

I wrote quickly, and not as well as I would have liked, but I was determined to complete something.

I nearly quit. Multiple times. I shredded myself to bits over about 15 hours.

I didn’t know how to finish it.

I didn’t understand what my characters were trying to tell me about who they were.

That man I love kept saying, “You got it. Keep going. Almost there.”

I would not have finished it without him.

Sometimes we do need someone else to believe in us and remind us to keep believing in ourselves.

The following link takes you to the first short story I have ever submitted to a contest before.

And as you will see, the first writing contest I have ever won! How cool is that?

It was truly a surprise and a serious boost of confidence!

I am so grateful to Connie Irons of Fictional Black Ink for hosting such a fun, free contest to help emerging authors get published!

It may seem a small victory but it means the world because now I have something I can use to get my writing portfolio started as I delve into freelancing.

Winning prize money is exciting too! Being paid for having fun can’t be beat, but the exposure is the real reward.

Click here to read my holiday story – A Marzipan Moon

Then, click HERE to follow Fictional Black Ink for monthly blog posts on Creative Writing from branding and promoting your writing to dealing with rejection to writing contests!