me + my backpack + some other stuff.

Yesterday I enjoyed one of my last yoga classes in the dome. It's basically a yurt-style "tent" a few kilometers outside of town, with brilliant views of Última Esperanza Fjord. It's built to withstand the gales and near hurricane-force winds. (And let's just say this full moon kicked up some glass-breaking twisters and house-rattling gusts.) Practicing yoga in the dome--warmed by a wood burning stove and sheltered from the gales beyond it--is noisy. The loudness of lashings never really bothers me when I'm inside, but our yoga maestra kept reminding us to let the wind sweep away what we no longer need. Let go our heavy baggage so to speak.

About four years ago, I shouldered a blue backpack and set out to travel around South America. I had a plan (which included returning in two months), but I found it difficult to explain to others what exactly I was doing. Friends wished me farewell, saying: I hope you find what you're looking for. I had no idea what that meant or what I might be looking for.

{on the way to paso oggioni, torres del paine}

My backpack has climbed glaciers and volcanoes peaking 6,000 meters, soaked in the mists of Machu Picchu, weighed down my broken toe traversing the Bolivian altiplano, wobbled on donkeys and boarded canoes in the Amazon. It's froze beneath the snow of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field. It's explored Turkey and survived rickety trains throughout Eastern Europe. I heard its sighs of relief when--too heavy for me to daintily swing onto my back--S has picked it up and held it out for me to put on, as if it was anything as light as a coat. It's been nibbled by mice and manhandled by airport conveyors. It's been my home for months at a time and my chair at dinnertime.

{en route to paso marconi + the ice field, from el chaltén}

And most recently heavy blue has been sold. For nearly a decade, that backpack collected shells and stones, non-native pine cones, diary notes scribbled on maps, breathtaking views, and the camaraderie of other backpacks.

{almirante nieto, torres del paine}

I've collected beach glass, bird books and real feather pens, friends, transience, acceptance. I met yoga and meditation and my husband. In that order. Maybe I was looking for something. But when I stopped looking and opened my eyes, I found I already had everything. (But, of course, I still wanted to meet that special someone.) A few blinks later : enter S. Now we're moving to my California homeland, with the backwards backpack of my 7-month pregnant belly. What a long, strange trip it's been.

May the wind carry away some of your excess baggage today. 

What would you send with its next gust?