News from Jules | 06.10.2024 | Don't Quit Your Daydreaming

No wonder I wanted to go here.

As I stepped from the heavy heat of the gravel alley back into the duplex to grab the last load of camping gear by the door, I scanned the kitchen and entryway for any forgotten items. The coolness, convenience, and comfort nearly seduced me to just stay home.

Luckily, the momentum was too strong.

I had already filled up the gas tank of my little white Volkswagen Rabbit on the drive home from work, stocked the cooler with pre-cooked meals, and pre-packed my new favorite ultralight REI hiking backpack. Plus, there were those two little green flags from my “Want to Go” list on Google Maps near the McKenzie River about an hour and a half away that I’d briefly visited last year but still had a lot to explore.

My curiosity and interest were peaked. And yet, I was still second-guessing myself.

Did I have the energy for this? Was it really worth it?

Since starting another job and figuring out a new schedule, I’d been daydreaming about going on adventures this summer, especially camping, backpacking, and maybe even some mountaineering once I’m fully recovered.

With the one exception when I was running the summer internship program at Nike in 2019 and barely did anything besides work, this has been my summer focus for years. Nearly a decade now.

Besides writing on Mondays, my one other day off each week is on Thursdays for Sabbath. And, my Wednesday shift at my new job now ended around 2 p.m. so that gave me a window of a day and not one, but two nights if needed, for mid-week adventuring without the crowds. Hence, happily offering to work weekends all summer.

Even so, I wasn’t fully committed until I actually merged onto Highway 97 heading north from Bend, rolled down the windows, and pressed play on Rollout by Ludacris—per my nonsensical hip-hop tradition—at 3:00 p.m. on the dot last Wednesday afternoon.

I needed the hype. It was time to rollout on my next adventure.

Driving through Bend’s urban sprawl of strip malls and subdivisions finally turned to forests and fields, and then that clear blue-sky view of one mountain after another that always takes my breath away.

As I got closer to Sisters, I could already taste the cool creamy mint chocolate chip milkshake from the original Sno Cap Drive-In that I remembered from a past adventure and had been craving since I departed. Sadly, when I parked I saw dark windows and a Closed sign.

Bummed, I stopped at the Dairy Queen for a chocolate-coated Dilly Bar instead. As I pulled out of the drive-through, I almost turned right to continue on Highway 20 heading toward the McKenzie River. But, I changed my mind at the last minute and turned left to stop at Ray’s supermarket for cash. Just in case I needed it.

A quirky, silver-haired local lady sparked up a conversation in line and insisted I go ahead of her since I was just buying a can of soup—not the cold beer I wanted but was too expensive—and getting cash back.

Her random act of kindness turned my frown upside down, and I walked back to my car perked up with a smile ready to restart my journey. As I drove off , I wondered: What am I doing?

This was not my daydream.

As Lily Meola sweetly sings: “We all got these big dreams/One day they’re replaced with fears/How did we get here?

Darling, don’t quit your daydream.”

I had the next 45 minutes on the road to reflect further.

My ongoing daydream ever since my first road trip during graduate school in 2008 was to hit the road, hair down, wild and carefree. Like Thelma & Louise—except none of the scary, scandalous parts. No preparations, no route, no agenda. Take things as they come. When they come.

My Thelma and Louise daydreams weren’t just about freedom, but feeling so deeply connected to the world and to myself that I fully trust my intuition and the Universe to provide.

The kind of synchronicity and serendipity that inspires me and fuels my faith.

Underneath my spontaneity, I was still defaulting to planning because I was scared. Ironically, still trying to control the outcomes to avoid disappointment and unmet desires, but in doing so creating expectations that would likely be unfulfilled.

After so many years of traveling, especially on my own, I knew this lesson well.

Expectations are specific, fearful and attempt to rectify the needs, losses, and pain within us. Whereas, expectancy is a state of readiness, a willingness to receive, a positive orientation that assumes that whatever is coming toward us, we can use it in some way.

Expectancy is not attached to what we think should be, but rather embraces whatever is—and looks forward to it.

This is similar to how daydreaming is different than our subconscious dreams each night or even a vision for a particular goal.

Daydreaming is a “cherished aspiration, ambition, or ideal.” A North Star, not a destination. And even though some say it’s a distraction from the present moment, I believe it’s the motivation that guides us being more deeply attuned to our present needs, losses, and pain.

For instance, needing silence, solitude, and stillness.

As I made my winding way past Black Butte and Suttle Lake, over the mountain pass between Three Finger Jack and Mount Washington, and past the McKenzie River Trailhead, I noticed familiar campgrounds, viewpoints, and intersecting trailheads from backpacking the 30-mile trail with my girlfriends last summer. With my heart/mind/body/spirit realigned, I started to get excited about all the possibilities for exploration the following day.

Getting close to my first green flag, I turned right off Highway 126, drove briefly down the forested side road, took another right through the open gate to St. Benedict Lodge, and discovered a peaceful sanctuary in nature at our small retreat center, just like the website said. It was green, lush, and right next to the river.

No wonder I wanted to go here.

I parked in the empty parking lot and walked around. Just like the Sno Cap Drive-in, the buildings were dark and the grounds were eerily quiet except for the rushing rapids of the river running alongside the lodge. While I was technically observing my Sabbath—no work, no plans, and offline—I could tell this was not the spot for a spontaneous overnight trip, but a personal retreat planned well in advance in the future.

I backtracked to Highway 126 confident I could find a campground later, so I continued to the next green flag on Google Maps—Cougar Hot Springs tucked away behind Cougar Dam and in an area heavily impacted by the 2018 Terwilliger Fire. After I parked and followed the gently winding trail past a huge horsetail waterfall and through the thinned forest for a half-mile, the trail abruptly turned to the left and steps appeared down to a wooden shelter.

Just below that, two tubes of 112° Fahrenheit mineral water flowed from a natural underground spring that cascaded down through four natural stone pools terraced on the hillside. On the left, a small creek ran alongside the pools and past a giant stone someone had carved with a cougar.

As the sun blinked its way down behind the treeline, and I sunk into the hot water, all my thoughts drifted away. Staring down, I was mesmerized by the reflection of the forest on the water, so crystal clear I could also see the textures of the bedrock beneath my feet, and what looked like an indigo aura glowing around my toes.

As I squinted I noticed it around the entire outline of my skin, and not just blue, but as if the whole rainbow was squished together. I’d seen this before while soaking in other hot springs and wondered if that’s where the colors of the chakras came from. I didn’t know the science but I did feel the symbolism.

For the next hour, I steeped in the pools like one of my favorite teas and let all the insights from the day sink in—as I would continue to do for the next 21 hours.

Once I allowed myself to feel so deeply connected to the world and to my spirit that I fully trusted my intuition and the Universe to provide, it did.

I felt so alive. I was living the daydream.

• While I sipped on a cheap half-pint that the server kindly poured for me at the quaint McKenzie Station Pub because there was only enough sunlight left to sit on the patio for half a beer;

• While I slept in my tent right next to the river at a first come, first serve site in the Olallie Campground for free because there weren’t any pay envelopes and I didn’t have service;

• While I ate breakfast and read The Second Mountain: The Quest for a Moral Life by the New York Times columnist David Brooks “about what it takes to lead a meaningful life in a self-centered world” for a few hours in my favorite REI camping chair by the river;

• While I hiked 4.6 miles of the McKenzie River Trail out-and-back to the stunning Tamolitch Falls Blue Pool, fed by three miles of the river flowing underground, thus icy cold to the touch but the same vibrant colors as my glowing skin in the hot springs;

• And while I stopped at the viewpoints for Koosah Falls, Sahalie Falls and Mount Washington on my drive back to Bend with my windows down and the music turned up.

See photos of my dreamy adventure on Instagram.

Around 3:30 p.m. last Thursday—just over 24 hours later with no email backlog and only a couple of missed texts—I was back to the duplex, unpacking and able to get ready for the next week.

Of course, I was hot and tired and sore and dirty, but thank goodness, I didn’t stay home.

It was totally worth it.

I am living the daydream.

May you keep dreaming this week.

Love,

Jules