After the Peaceful Klamath Hostel

I stopped in Ashland, OR and stayed at a hostel which was poorly run, but nothing that effected me directly. However I saw the rippling effects upon other guests and felt bad for them. The Shakespeare Festival was happening and the town was hopping. I didn't go to any plays, but really liked the town of Ashland, touristyness aside. It reminded me of Asheville. 

For the next two weeks I sunk into a deep funk, using a lot of my energy to figure out where to sleep each night. Both hostels in Portland were full. I slept some nights in the car, dreading the following day of exhaustion each time.  A motel here and there.  I was lonely and depressed. I had little energy to fight the horrible thoughts which just WAIT for these moments. So opportunistic. "You're a loser." "You'll never find your stupid Destiny." "Everyone has a life except you." "This was a dumb idea." "DEBT!" "You're irresponsible." Crying, waves of sorrow. 

I managed to call four contacts in Washington during this time and one of them, Diane, invited me to stay at her apartment in the Seattle area while she was away for ten days. This was to begin on June 19, after her finals. She just finished her first year of naturopath school at Bastyr University.  I also heard back from some other old Wichita friends, who moved to WA twenty years ago, who I'd lost touch with.  I had dinner with them, spent the night, and left the following afternoon. I enjoyed seeing them, but had the sense that I intruded and imposed. In my insecure frame of mind, I imagined what probably wasn't there and brought to light the negative aspects of being on the road. People have lives and can't be standing by to put me up for days with little or no notice. In my weak emotional state, all I saw was lack in me. I loved everything about their home. It was brimming with manifestations of their individual and collective creativity and quality work. The garden, the quilts she makes, his craftsmanship in the remodeling, the coziness, the photographs, the peace.

Due to the flowy and timeless nature of my trip, I realized in the beginning, that l had to change my thinking regarding self-inviting. As a host, I've never regarded it as rude, but could understand how others would.  This journey has necessitated some degree of chutzpah and courage to invite myself, along with resolve to accept a "no" without emotional attachment. After seven months, it has gotten no easier to invite myself.  I thought it would. In addition, I've found myself unable to not take the rejections personally. Even though they never are. They really do a number on me, like a kick in the gut.

I was already feeling like I was intruding upon my friends with the cozy and lovely house, and just couldn't bring myself to bluntly ask them if I could stay for three more days, when I'd be at Diane's.  As I drove away, I had no idea where I'd sleep that night. I called two more friends, who both said no, nothing personal I am sure, but that was the last straw.