You Can’t Get There From Here

There’s a phrase used here in Maine, as you look across the water from the shoreline to other parts of land in the distance and ask for directions to a certain point on another peninsula (or anywhere in Maine for that matter), the answer you’ll receive is, “Well…..can’t get theyahh from heyahh.”

(You) can’t get there from here: A humorous phrase used when giving directions to a place that is far away or difficult to get to from one’s current location.

The meaning is simple, yet also a metaphor for Life itself. Even though a person can clearly see the destination point, it’s almost impossible to get there without a good bit of perseverance, determination, and usually a bit of help from others you meet along the way.

This new lifestyle of mine in Maine forces me to take my time doing things and I am required to make a plan even for completing menial tasks such as running errands. The nearest gas station is 20 minutes away. A large grocery store? 30 minutes. There aren’t any Ubers out here or Doordash. If we want to go out to dinner, that’s a minimum 30 minute drive. Don’t get me started on experiencing a medical emergency out here! This is why Mainers are some of the most resilient and self-sufficient people I’ve met.

Living out here on this peninsula requires a lot of work, however it is also quiet and peaceful. We have good neighbors who keep an eye on things and lend a helping hand, when needed. It’s also a good place for writing, thinking, and rebuilding. We aren’t just renovating the house here on the property…. I’m also renovating my life.

I was reminded today, that 13 years ago I was featured on a Good Morning America segment as a successful travel writer and blogger. Such a surreal moment, sitting at my fire service job watching the segment air on the big screen next to the city traffic cameras. Tory Johnson had interviewed me in Las Vegas, and at the end of the taped segment, George Stephanopoulos discussed how I had built my writing career on a computer given to me by Oprah Winfrey. This time in my life was followed by more interviews with ABC News Now, hosting a travel segment on a Lifetime TV show, and reporting live on local news affiliates around the US.

And then. I just stopped.

This time in Maine has given me pause to look back over the 20 plus years of my travel writing, which I managed to do while working full time in the fire service and raising a family. I look back at all the amazing opportunities I had been given, some of which I grabbed with gusto, heading down the road to a destination I couldn’t see. Other times, I reached potholes and roadblocks, in the form of parameters put on me by my full-time job, a brain tumor diagnosis, criticism of my life choices by some family members, and honestly from my own laziness and procrastination.

Writing a memoir is scary. Sitting alone on acres of land in a rural area is scary. Cleaning out boxes of all the things accumulated over the years is scary. The quiet is scary. Because it makes one look within and face all the decisions that were made, right or wrong. It forces an acknowledgement of ALL the things. The times when I reached a dead end, and instead of turning around and taking another route, I allowed myself to halt in my tracks, stop the forward movement. Quit.

I can look out my window right now and see the point of a neighboring peninsula. What looks to be 1.5 miles between two points can take 40 minutes driving. Similarly, I have jumped back into this writing career of mine. The twists and turns are beginning to appear. The dead ends. The potholes. I can blame these detours on others. I can blame it on the Universe. I can blame it on myself.

(You) can’t get there from here, some would say.

But I can. It will just take a heck of a lot of work.