On a recent trip to Maine, where my family and I have traditionally enjoyed many fall vacations and created a bounty of fond memories, I made the decision to travel solo this year. My goal was to take a respite from the past three years of many changes, and the last two years of the pandemic. No different than anyone else’s burdens, I was simply feeling tired and worn out.
Time to Wander and Rest
I was on a quest for contemplative solitude, longing for a window of unstructured free time, and the possibility of adventure, paying close attention to my instincts and listening to the whispers of my heart. I believe we all need a moment to ourselves, where we can eat anything we want, go anywhere we want to go, not follow a GPS and purposely get lost in the day. Depending on the stage you find yourself in life, this may take different forms or feel out of reach unless you get creative. I was looking forward to a full day of wandering and then getting in my pajamas at 5:30 pm, watching Netflix and eating ice cream in bed. My plan was to do this every night for an entire week. I had a few travel adventures planned, but this was definitely not a tourist trip. This was a heart trip.
Something Lovely to Jot Down Thoughts
I felt the urge to gather a few supplies to help facilitate this elusive period of reflection. Perhaps you’ve experienced this yourself. I bought a pretty notebook (that I never used), a handful of good writing pens (the cheap kind that glide across the paper when I make incredibly insightful notes), and even purchased some overpriced magazines for the plane ride. I purposely arrived to Kennebunk without an agenda. My sole goal was to be alone.
Crossing Paths
The Bed and Breakfast was the perfect backdrop for solitude if I wanted it, but try as I might when I arrived, circumstances kept getting in my way. Darn those fellow guests, June and Dave, staying next door to me at the B&B. They helped me figure out the coffee maker in the hall, but that was all I was planning for conversation. There they were for breakfast, and they were so friendly, and interesting, I had to break my silence. I planned to eat breakfast by myself every morning to commune with nature, but instead, I had to suffer through great conversations, interesting stories, wildly kind smiles and a few belly laughs. We enjoyed the wonderful homemade granola and yogurt, lemon pancakes and incredible coffee from a local roaster served by the innkeeper, Hana, at the B&B.
Small Town Pleasures
Each day I would wander off in the morning and find something to do, from walks along the scenic coast to visiting beautiful lighthouses to enjoying simple little markets owned by families for multiple generations. I was also introduced to Armenian cheese and an incredible flatbread by my friends Jackie and Jane, who I had told on several different occasions, “just a quick visit” because “I want to be alone.”
Reevaluating My Intention
On the second night of cheese, fruit and Cosmopolitans, I began to wonder if what I truly was longing for was not what I had thought. I continued to experience deep connections with strangers and good friends, and each experience was filling my spiritual cup. But in the meantime, I kept asking (for me, it’s God), “What is my message?” More clearly, “What do you want me to know and hear?” I knew I wouldn’t get lightning bolts with a message written in the clouds, but I also was aware that I had not spent one moment in quiet solitude. … yet.
My journal was still empty, not even removed from my carry-on. I continued to wander and take in the daily small gestures of kindness from perfect strangers. I still hadn’t opened the package of those darn pens, and the week was ticking along. I was actually getting stressed for not “finding my peace” in journaling.
An Impromptu Invitation
On Wednesday, I met two friends of Hana’s, and she invited my two friends over to plan a going-away party for someone we didn’t even know. I told myself I really needed to be alone … but I went. We sat at the kitchen table and ate, and drank, and ate, and drank and laughed, and ate. I had the time of my life with these incredibly interesting women. An artist, a coffee roaster/funeral director (yes, the combo is real), a successful businesswoman turned talented innkeeper and two retired Harvard execs. “I have really GOT to start writing in that journal,” I told myself. I only have one more full day before I fly back without a solid message from above.
In the meantime, my friends back home are texting me to make sure I’m not lost somewhere out in the woods. My kids are wondering when I’ll be back so we can decorate for fall because fall is big in our family. Well, that is an exaggeration. They just called to talk, but I think they want to decorate—I know these things because I am their mom.
A Clear Message
My last day before coming home, I am on my daily sojourn, wondering why I am not getting a “clear message” when I walk past this simple rock fence. Scattered among the rocks are a variety of painted rocks with special messages. I stop to read a rock, and a small dog runs up and starts wagging its tail. I look around to see who it belongs to, and there is no owner. Then, all of a sudden, a woman comes rushing up with tears in her eyes, out of breath, saying her dog has been missing all morning and their entire family has been out looking. They wonder how he appeared where they have been searching for the past three hours. When she hugs me, it feels like a hug my grandmother used to give me. Warm and deep and sincere.
The rocks had all kinds of inspirational messages, and every one of them touched my soul. They were all sizes and shapes, and their simple messages conveyed joy, gratitude and hope. They were not painted by professional artists, but by small and large hands that took the time to create a personal masterpiece, meant to inspire others. My favorite rock said simply, “Thank you.” One of my favorite quotes has always been, If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough. (Meister Eckhart) Right there, in that moment, the entire rock wall was enough to make my trip complete.
What I realized throughout the trip is that joy is everywhere. In the small grains of sand between my toes, in the towering lighthouse looking over the ocean, in the laughter with people who I may never see again. One smile, one act of kindness can change another person’s life.
A Stranger’s Act of Kindness
My final gift was the man sitting next to me on the plane ride home. There was only a choice of a turkey or vegetable sandwich. The flight attendant reached our aisle and asked for our order saying there was only one turkey sandwich left. A perfect stranger sitting next to me asked, “What would you like?” just like a spouse or friend would do. I hesitated but then said “turkey,” and he told the attendant, “I will take vegetable.” Somehow, that gesture almost brought tears to my eyes. The sheer gratitude for the kindness of friends and strangers was my message.
Fuel for the Soul
I left my home tired and desperately needing a break. In a city, and a town far from my own, I found a tribe of people I didn’t expect to meet, who I really needed to be around. The gift I take from this trip is that I didn’t really need to be alone after all. I required the trip to reengage and refuel my soul. I never did use that journal, but the entire trip will be forever colorfully chronicled in my head and my heart.
I can only imagine the challenges and joys, losses and rebirths you have been through in recent years. My sincere wish for you is that you may also have the gift of putting your out-of-office “on” or your calendar away to make room for exactly what your heart needs.
For more information, check out The Protocol School of Texas. You may also like 11 Fall Travel Must-Haves. For more of Diane’s etiquette tips, read her posts on Inc., subscribe to her articles on The Huffington Post, “like” The Protocol School of Texas on Facebook, and follow her on Pinterest, Instagram and Twitter.
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