To walk alone—that means to walk away from every formula—the ones given to you by others, the ones you learned from books, the ones that you yourself invented in the light of your own past experience. — Anthony DeMello, The Way to Love: Meditations for Life: The Last Meditations.
ONE YEAR AGO this week, I found myself lost and alone on a narrow street in Melide, Spain, with a dead cellphone battery, a desperate need to find a public restroom, and no sign of my travel companion. The realization I was off-course dawned vaguely, but more vivid and panic-producing was the awareness I was abandoned. In the vulnerability of that moment, my extensive experience as a solo traveler evaporated, replaced by formulas given to me by others, namely a long-ago abusive partner who often walked off when I failed to find our way quickly. Now churning in my stomach with unexpected acids of self-doubt, fear, and self-blaming was the Pulpo a la Gallega—octopus—offered for free by a street vendor and consumed just before a wrong turn. Traumas once long-gone bubbled up, tightening my chest, arresting my breath and finally erupting as hot tears of anger, hurt and confusion. I backtracked a few blocks, began to cross a four-lane street, but then froze in the pedestrian median, a pathetic middle-aged woman in a beautiful new country isolated in the desert of memory.
Jean P. Kelly, Intentional Path Media 