A little late to talk about my Thanksgiving, but I have to start somewhere.
As the weirdest year in my life comes to an end, the pressures of both having lived new experience after new experience while part of my life was crumbling, signaled a prelude to what was going to be an epic nervous breakdown.
Anticipating this breakdown (which did end up happening a month later) and feeling the hurt of spending yet ANOTHER family holiday by myself I decided last minute to pack my car and head up north to a place -a wise person in my life promised- would renew my spirits and cleanse my mind.
It wasn't like other trips I have taken on my own. This one felt desperate. This one was painful. This one felt lonely. Yet I drove and drove for hours until I got to a nice little hotel in Morro Bay, CA. I was carrying office supplies, a grocery store sandwich and salad, and a body and mind ready to spend Thanksgiving taking a look at my life and work on the things that for months I had started to leave behind.
I got to work in my comfortable hotel room, I worked for hours. I made lists, finished tasks, mostly that had to do with my artwork and life projects I had been neglecting.
I looked inside my soul for the treasures I lost track of. I just wanted to make the best of everything like I had been doing for the past three years.
I typed until I couldn't type no more and it felt so good to have absolutely no distractions from the outside world, and FINISH. I also ate my sandwich. Then I missed my family, but after I did all that, I felt a little less sorry for myself.
But there was still so much work to do. And that work had to be done with my camera.
I drove north of Morro Bay to Cambria. The destination spot was Fiscalini Ranch. It's a beautiful drive with the blue ocean by your side and desolate beaches (desolate maybe only because it was Thanksgiving morning). Only a few people, a lot by themselves or with their dogs were around. I made it to Cambria, a cute little town, then made it to Fiscalini Ranch after some confusion on how to get there. The view was both stunning as it was frightening. The ocean crashes on the rocks, sometimes letting the sunlight pass through the waves and reflecting a divine-like jade color. You stand on high cliffs, and a bad slip could end it all or at least break all your bones. A good place to die if you feel like it. But also a good place to be reborn, if you have the strength.
I wasn't going to choose to die, my life is not as bad as it seems. I whine way more than I actually suffer. I grew up with a fatalistic attitude so, when I feel some sort of storm coming, and I just wanna run the hell outta there. But one cannot outrun a storm. We must endure them. But "I didn't wanna".
I sat there, with the wind on my face and just watched the waves come and go. Crash and die. It was gorgeous and it f'n sucked at the same time. I have made the most of my loneliness, I cannot say I did not try. But a human can only take so much. And my situation is absolutely preventable, fixable but I had done nothing about it. With that thought I left Fiscalini Ranch.
The following day I drove around the nearby towns and beaches making my way south of the Central Coast. I will spare everybody the non-consequential details of these cute places. I did make it to Moonstone beach by sunset time and I sat there, again, watching the sun, on my own, by myself, craving a Burger King hamburger (food sucks in these towns, sorry).
Sitting on the sand, on a cliff, with the most golden sun I had ever seen was lonely but it was satisfying. Just me, and my camera to share it with.
I would love to say that this experience was life changing and it made me wake up and know exactly what I needed to do. No, it didn't. There is no resolution to this trip. No life changing moment. No more wisdom than I already had. All it did was act like a medication, give me some impulse to go on living the same dire situation and give me some good nature-moments during the day that produced these photographs -a statement of how my mind was working at the time-.
I believe I took some of the most sincere travel photos I've ever taken. They speak of a longing, longing for light, for peace of mind, for divinity, for something to come and pick me up and embrace me. I was so tired.
That's all I can say. I was so tired. My camera was not.
