"An object is cut off from it's name, habits, associations.
Detached, it becomes only the thing, in and of itself.
When this disintegration into pure existence is at last acheived,
the object is free to become endlessly anything.
In that year there was an intense visitation of energy.
I left school and went down to the beach to live.
I slept on a roof.
At nite the moon became a woman's face.
I met the Spirit of Music."
- Jim Morrison, Wilderness
When I was 19, I got fed up with it all. Life was boring. It was all the same. The same friends, a full-time job that was going no-where, the same landscape, a roommate from hell... Everything was blah. Not that it was bad, it wasn't. I couldn't bring myself to take more classes at the university. I just felt boxed in. I needed to do something. I need to experience something.
One day I was looking at the job ads in the paper. There was an ad for Nanny's in New York. They were doing interviews that week. I called, got an interview, spoke with a family they thought would fit me, and I got hired.
I announced to my friends and family that I was leaving Idaho for New York in 10 days. I never thought twice. I sold my car, quit my job, moved out of my apartment and emptied my bank account. I partied one last time, had dinner with my family and got on a plane and flew away.
I stayed in New York for two years. I came back home to visit twice and one of my sisters and two friends came to visit me. I was a nanny, took classes at a nearby college, I met 4 other girls (nannies, too) from back West and partied every Thursday nite and Saturday nite. I was introduced to my first lesbian couple who were close friends of the family I worked for, I met other family and friends from Israel and Africa and met guys who grew up having a nanny take care of them. I learned how to shoot oysters with a beer back, drink wine with dinner, feast with the Italians, and fast with the Jewish side of the family. I rode subways, taxis and trains. I drove on the parkways, even into the city. I couldn't believe the diversity that existed outside of my former life. There were people everywhere and noone was the same. Everyone thought something different, liked a different type of music, came from a different part of the world and ate different foods.
I stood out in New York. They say it was because of my blondish hair I had at the time, my so called 'western' accent, and my ability to get into clubs because of my Idaho (where's that!) fake ID. But I didn't notice. I was too busy absorbing the chaos around me. After a couple of years, I felt like it was time to go. I didn't want to become Alice on The Brady Bunch or anything. So I hopped on a plane back to Idaho. But this time, as I landed back home, I was a conissour of life. At least I had begun the journey towards it.
I knew that I had a ways to go to learn and I continue to learn but I had to cut myself off from the safe, the known, and the comfortable to get out of the mold that had held the real me enclosed for so long. I learned to express myself, stand up for who I was instead of trying to be like others. I lost the fear of the unknown and was eager to head on to new challenges. I learned to trust myself and let my spirit guide me.
About a year after I came back from New York, I came accross an old Jim Morrison book of poems. Not being a huge poetry fan, like I can't just sit down and read a book of poetry, I held the book close to me and closed my eyes. I asked the spirits if they would show me a good poem. Then I opened the book. The poem/saying above is the one that I turned to. It has stuck with me every day since. It's true. It's what happened to me. I grew wings.