Jamaica, Jamaica

Coyotes, Year of Yes, and huge looming things

I’m an extremist.

My knee jerk response, is often, to view the extreme side of an issue.  

It’s the reason when asked if I’d seen any coyotes in my neighborhood recently, all I could think about were bunnies, also in my neighborhood, running (hopping?) for their lives with a wild dog on their heels. Their little bodies darting through shrubbery, over rocks, and hurrying into their warren to escape the predator.

It’s that sort of highly cautioned – doomsday thinking that I am certain contributed to my digestion issues when I first started freelancing. And also likely the impetus for why I cut all my hair off and planned a solo trip to Jamaica way back when.

Coconut water on the side of the road. (Jamaica, Jan. 2017)

Honestly, I blame my sign. We Capricorns mean serious business. In addition to being an authority figure of the zodiac, we’re also hardworking, ambitious, and structured. So, I give it my all - even my imagination- when I do anything.

I was reminded of strong Cap energy recently while reading Shonda Rhimes’ “Year of Yes”.  We not only share the same sign but an exact birthdate (the 13^th).  I feverishly read her book because I felt too seen. She described herself as an extremist of sorts and was compelled to carve out more time for what’s important in life.  It was one of many books that inspired me to indulge in adventure and create a connected life for myself.

Young Leeke fresh out the barber chair. I needed a change, and my hair was the closest thing within reach. (Chapel Hill, NC., Nov. 2016)

Naturally that involved a dramatic change to my hair and flying over a thousand miles in search of vacation and otherwise. I needed to see myself in ways that were true. Full of courage, while bold and curious, even when afraid.  Prior to the trip I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. But knew those feelings lived just below the surface. I longed for their embrace, even if it involved a search.  

Jamaica was that mirror. But really, anywhere could have been because everywhere you go, there you are.  I woke up to roosters crowing every morning and fell asleep to chirping crickets and the belch of frogs every night. I watched a blunt get rolled in 2.5 seconds and used the leaf of a monstera as shelter from downpouring rain.

I rode in a car with strangers on the way to a fete, ate beef patties for breakfast three days in a row and cried from feeling lonely in paradise.  I hopped on a bus at Half Way Tree, to arrive in Portland, over two hours away, then later received proof that old keys can’t open new locks.  I had to speak up for myself but also played it safe so I wouldn’t end up on The First 48. 

I grieved a past I no longer fit into, while fearing a future I felt ill-quipped for.  I received a marriage proposal when climbing up a speaker and laughed it off over a beer. I entered the sea allowing the waves to knock me off my feet and bring me to my knees. I reached Blue Mountain Peak and felt the temperature drop as the sun dipped behind the horizon.  I relied on strangers, once again to cart me down to sea level. A visceral reminder that the isolated are statuesque but cold.    

On my way to Blue Lagoon with Birkenstocks and bikini in tow. (Jamaica, Jan. 2017)

But even with cool breeze, salty air, and humidity that feels like an unwanted hug, I couldn’t shed a feeling I hoped to forget.  And while I’ve never been chased in the wild -  like a bunny with a wild dog on its heels-  I do know what it’s like to feel like there’s something looming over you, you can’t escape. My trip was an indulgence in the art of escapism. A swim in the waters of denial.  I returned from my time abroad, started therapy and spent the remainder of the semester making a home within myself.

P.S. This is the second work of Shonda Rhimes I’ve chosen to run back. I’m nearly finished with the series of How to Get Away with Murder.

P.P.S. Year of Yes is truly a great read. I believe I bought a copy for a friend and loaned another mine. I can’t stop shoving it in people’s hands, it’s still a text I return to.