The Grass Isn’t Always Greener
Have you ever had one of those months where you’re like, damn it, I need to get away for a weekend, and all the stars align, and next thing you know, you are in your car driving to your destination? If you are anything like me, this doesn’t often happen – well, the driving to your destination part. Nonetheless, it did line up for me one weekend, and I found myself on my way to Ashville, NC for a much needed three-day break.
Now to give you a little background on how I chose Ashville: it dawned on me that the universe was guiding me there. Three different people had mentioned this fabulous town to me in less than a twenty-four-hour span. So I found a cute little tiny cabin on a river outside of town that looked perfect for me to have some quiet reflection time. Did I forget to mention being able to check off a bucket list item of meditating on top of a mountain at sunrise?
It was foggy but beautiful for a summer morning drive with the windows down and the music up. I’m cruising at a solid 75mph with a dump truck on my tail when this black bear comes running across the interstate. I slammed on my brakes, barely missing the bear and the dump truck barely missing me. I was beside myself, and in my typical fashion, I knew I had to look up the black bears’ spiritual meaning. In short, the black bear is a symbol of introspection. I found comfort in this sign once my heart rate returned to normal, and I continued on my journey.
I was early for my cabin check-in, so I decided to drive thru downtown and realized I was not there to visit the hustle and bustle, so I made way to the cabin. Just as I turned on the road of my destination, my cell service went out as well as the street numbers; I found myself frustrated driving up and down the road. I finally turned in to a public area with access to the river. The river was cold, the air was hot, and there wasn’t a soul around. My phone rang, it was the property manager letting me know the cabin was ready and giving me a landmark of where to turn in. Thank you, Jesus, and off I went once again.
The cabin was one large room, with a private deck that overlooked the river. There was an outhouse with a shower and toilet area that everyone shared. It was right down my alley. I got settled in and went over my plans. I had dinner at a great little restaurant called Tupelo Honey and watched a jam session with local musicians before calling it a night.
Three am came early, and the walk to the outhouse was a bit creepy. I showered, and as I walked up to my cabin in my towel and PJs in hand, I realized the door to my cabin was locked, keys and phone inside. I found a chair to climb on so I could get on my deck, and thank God I left the sliding door unlocked.
It was a half-hour hike up the mountain, and it was freezing, so I decided to curl up behind a rock wall to block the wind until sunrise. At that moment, I remember thinking, the top of a mountain sounds just like the ocean with your eyes closed. Then came the dog, licking me. And his humans, chatting, sure enough right at sunrise. I couldn’t find my peace between the cold air and conversation, so I left in frustration.
Nothing had opened for breakfast, so I decided to go back to the cabin and sleep off my grouchiness. Dump truck after dump truck flew down the road behind my cabin, and after four hours of this nonsense, I packed my bags and hit the road for home. I was back before dinner. I laughed to myself on the drive home, thinking about the quote, “We make plans, and God laughs.”
I planned to escape the life that was making me crazy; God’s plan was to remind me how much I loved my life. The lesson: the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.
