In the past 2 years, I’ve probably shared more pictures of myself than I did in the last 20.

Maybe it’s because all this time in isolation has made it too easy to slip into the background.

Maybe I’d relied on seeing sights and being seen by folks who for too many reasons weren’t around anymore.

Maybe it was to prove that after all of the heartbreak, loss and devastation, I was still here.

Maybe all of the above.

But it all started last September with a print of Frida Kahlo and what was going to be a joke picture. I’d brought her illustrated diary along for my road trip through the southwest, and when I arrived in El Paso, I decided to have a laugh by posing with my book and the print of her I found hanging on the rental wall.

I was almost immediately struck by how corny/weird/unfunny it was and how much Frida, whose most prolific subject was herself, probably would have hated every. thing. about it. It was like I could hear her voice in my head, “Who am I? This is your journey. See yourself and show yourself.”

So I did, and didn’t stop. The journey, or showing myself.

Since then, I’ve driven ~10,200 miles through West Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Arkansas, Louisiana, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Tennessee—just me, myself, and I. (And a couple of Mazda CX-5s.)

And when I go, no matter what else I see, I always, always make time to see myself there too.

I don’t know what lies ahead in #2022. But I do know I won’t be a passenger, and there’s so much more of the world and me to see. 🌏💖✨

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where i wandered: