Why am I so apprehensive?

Today I reached Dallas and took a walk in a robust neighborhood filled with restaurants I’d like to eat at. There must be seven of them within walking distance of my hotel that I’d love to try. But I won’t. I don’t eat dinners on the road. A late lunch is sufficient.

Though I did snag a smoothie to fructify my urban suburban hike.

As I walked I could feel myself burning with apprehension. As if molecularly I was suddenly becoming incoherent, with everything speeding up vibrationally, and not in a good way. You could almost call it fear, though it didn’t quite reach that intensity. 

You know what was at the base of it?

Dread.

I’m on my fourth back to back art trek, something I haven’t done in many years. Though it wasn’t planned this way — I only expected to be on the road twice at most this summer — financially it’s beautiful. Experientially it’s been crazy diverse. Intellectually it’s been enlightening. Insights spill over when you’re steeped in solitude. The lecture series I listen to feed my hungry brain. The people I meet have ranged from the mildly interesting to the extraordinary.

So what am I apprehensive about?

Losing time with my son. And my nephew who’s living with us. And my woman partner lover wife. And my friends . . . .

It’s more than missing home. On this fourth trip it feels like I’m missing life that can’t be won back.

I know this — that I can go meditate sincerely and the pangs will subside. In fact I’ll likely emerge from meditation buoyant.

But I don’t want to!

I want to miss them.

I don’t want to connect with my greater spiritual aspect and be washed clean.

I want to yearn for my daily life . . . for fear of losing the deep hold we have over each other.

The Buddha abandoned his family. I can’t do that. I won’t do that.

Though he did leave his wife and child in the opulence of his day. As a young prince you can do that kind of thing, bequeath your wife and child back to your royal family in essence as you depart on your quest for enlightenment.

Even then, it’s a silly comparison. It’s not my path. I was late to family. Now it’s my thing so thoroughly my formerly free spirit would wilt to be without it. Family has become my expression.

I will meditate . . . . Tonight, later. When I’m ready.

And I know this, the frolicsome and deep relationships that people my life will wash through me . . . I will feel the glad-heartedness of it all . . . and yes, I’ll come out of meditation lighter . . . but there will be celebration and longing, soulfulness and wistfulness, there will be loving this freewheeling life and there will be missing them . . . there will be opposites joined and it will be OK to live them both.