People love to say that there isn’t really a difference, every place is essentially the same, wherever you go, there you are, but I’ve never found that to be true.

There are places on this planet that feel more harmonious to you, because of the way your energy and the energy of place relate to one another, and places that are going to feel discordant for the same reason. There are places that feel more harmonious or safe to you because the collective values and beliefs of that place integrate well with your own. Locations have vibrational energy, and our collective values feed into the energy of a place.

That’s one reason why travel is so necessary. You get to go some place different, breathe different air, stand your feet on different ground, be in different energy, and when you mingle with that energy, your energy also changes.

It had been so long since we’d been able to travel and we knew we wanted to go somewhere that would feel like a good fit for us, where our spirits would be free. We needed to go somewhere restorative and inspiring to nourish our spirit.

For weeks, I heard the phrase Woodstock, New York, in my head.

This is how my guides speak to me, with a quiet insistence.

So, we decided to go to Woodstock.

We broke the drive up into two days, ending our first day, which was windy and cold in Harrisburg, PA.

On the road in West Virginia, we saw the sign for Point Pleasant (home of Mothman,) and then we stopped for coffee in Flatwoods, and I remembered the Flatwoods Monster. A nod to two cryptids felt like a good sign.

We drove through the remnants of Ian’s rain for most of the day.

The second day’s drive was much shorter and even though the weather was still overcast, sort of lovely..

When we crossed the state line, I said to Rocky, “This is New York, where I’m from,” and then quickly realized, that wasn’t true.

Maybe we originate from many places. Maybe we are born many times during our lives. There is certainly a part of me that only feels at home in New York.

We got into Woodstock around 3 pm. The town itself was more charming than we’d imagined it would be.

We headed up the mountain and quickly saw that we had chosen the exact right place for ourselves.

Pre-pandemic, if you asked me or Tracy about our ideal living situation, we would have talked about California and the need for a time machine, but over the last few years, our ideal has shifted.

If you asked us now, we would both tell you, a one-story midcentury in the woods in a liberal county in a blue state, in a creative artistic community, close to town.

And that’s where we were.

I can’t really describe what it felt like to open the door and enter this home, to walk around on this land, what a gift it was to be able to stay here.

An instant energy shift.

We got settled in and went back into town to pick up some groceries. As we pulled out of the driveway, we watched the largest hawk I’d ever seen take flight. In the very next moment, we stopped for a flock of turkeys to cross the road and around the next curve, encountered five youthful black bears tumbling in the road.

On the way back, on the same road, we saw deer grazing in a front yard.

That night, we took Rocky out together, so Tracy could shine a flashlight all around to look out for bears.

He pointed the light toward the trees. “Look,” he said, “Do you see the eyes?”

Deer.

Our first full day in Woodstock was cool and rainy. I wanted to go into town and walk around and shop, but it wasn’t the best day for that.

We got a very slow start, had our morning coffee and learned that Loretta Lynn had died.

Outside, we encountered a flock of wild turkey in the yard.

I should just stop telling you about the wildlife now, because it is all around, everywhere, thriving.

We drove to Cub Market to pick up lunch. It was a relief to see the staff there and most of the customers wearing masks.

We walked around the park behind the Bearsville Theater. There is a trail with markers commemorating the albums recorded there and as we walked, a couple of deer kept watch on us.

Then, we drove up Mink Hollow, where Todd Rundgren used to live, then took a rainy drive on a scenic byway through the Catskills.

By the time we got back to Woodstock, it was getting dark and the rain was heavy. Mid-week, a lot of businesses were closed, but we finally found some dinner to take back to the house.

We woke up to heavier rain on Wednesday morning.

I had my coffee in bed and watched the trees through the window and wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning in a place like this, to see flowers and herbs greeting me from the garden, to look out and discover what sorts of animals were passing by.

What would it be like to live where it gets this dark at night, truly dark, where the morning comes in silently.

Today, I told myself, I’m not going to worry about food, about money, about aging, about my body, about the future, about making sure we get to do all of the things we want to do, about everything that’s wrong and out of balance. Today, I’m just going to be.

Tracy was seriously bummed about the rain, but it did mean that we got to sit in the beautiful sunken den for a while.

Early afternoon, there was a break in the rain so we went into town to walk around. We turned down a residential street. Just past the house with the sign advertising homemade pies, I saw a woman walking her dog. I recognized her right away and called out to her.

It was Martha, who with her husband Gary, owned the dog-friendly B&B in Asheville where we took Woody when he was just a pup. They sold the business years ago and moved to Woodstock and now here we all were standing on this corner in New York. She was as lovely a person as we rememered her to be and walked with us for a while and told us about this place.

It was a synchronistic, sparkling encounter.

I tried to leave Rocky on a bench outside with Tracy so I could explore the spiritual bookstore. It was a peaceful place - incense and soft new age music - but all the way in the back, I could hear Rocky out front screaming for me, so I had to leave.

It started to rain again. We drove through the cemetery where Levon Helm is buried (yes, there was a deer gently grazing in the cemetery) then got take out from Pearl Moon, which was delicious.

The next morning, I lifted the bedroom shade to watch chipmunks in the garden. There was sun coming through the trees and when I went to get my coffee, I discovered three deer grazing in the yard, pulling leaves from the tree.

They watched me through the window.

When we got our day going, it was time to eat, so we went to Dixon Roadside, where dogs are not only allowed, but welcomed. Then, we made a stop at the dog park, which was a wooded area, the type of landscape Rocky loves to explore.

Another dog arrived and Rocky actually played with him a little bit. We talked to his humans, who were kind and interesting people.

Then, we took off down the road pointed toward Bethel.

The drive was stunning. Bright autumn color, rushing water, dappled sunlight, tiny towns of haunted Victorian houses and farms that look like you’ve traveled back in time. Most of all, the New York feeling. The New York feeling. I love it so much.

The Woodstock site is pristine and beautifully maintained. Dogs aren't allowed in, so Tracy went in first and struck up a conversation with a man who was hanging out there. He had worked for Max Yasgur and actually came down with Max to see all the people who had arrived before the fence was built and was there for the “I guess this is a free concert now,” conversation.

Tracy asked, “Was Max a good guy?”

“Of course,” he said, “he was a farmer.”

He also allowed as how we could bring Rocky in if we put him in his stroller. So that’s what we did, just long enough to get a couple of photos. We never let him touch the ground. We stood in front of a mural that said “Everyone has a Woodstock story,” and I guess our story is, we brought our dog in right past a sign asking us to keep him out.

We did not take him past the entrance, though. We took turns walking down into the field. The energy of this land is incredible. I instantly felt an activation in my heart and my throat. It feels sacred, and when it was my turn to wait in the car with Rocky while Tracy walked, I watched people arrive and noticed how they came with such pleasure and reverence and how everyone was reaching out to one another and sharing stories and just loving being there. Loving life, really.

A man used his wooden walking stick as a pointer, “Up there is where Wavy Gravy was serving the rice,” he said and the rest of us said, ah that’s so cool, and we really meant it.

Can you imagine, walking up to a 19-year-old who’s been sleeping on the ground, covered in mud, and saying, “You’re participating in something right now that’s so significant, fifty years from now people are going to be visiting this site, just so we can stand here and breathe this air.”

Just thinking about it filled me with a strange sort of hope.

Early in the morning, before dawn, I heard a sound in the woods. I’d never heard anything like it before. If I had to describe it, I would say it sounded like a series of interlocking circles, hollow and cautionary. Somewhere, dogs began barking at the sound and then all went silent again.

When Tracy woke up I told him, “I heard a Bigfoot.”

He said, “Are you sure you didn’t hear an owl?”

It’s possible. Who knows?

That’s when we decided to look for another house and stay at additional week. I would be working, of course, but that’s what being a digital nomad is all about, right?

Financially, it was a splurge, but we decided to go ahead and splurge it. Because money isn’t even real.

We hadn’t traveled since 2019. We’ve been tethered to our house and our routine.

We needed more time away. That’s all. We just simply needed it.

We looked and found a house in town.

Then, we got lunch from Oriole 9 and headed over the the Comeau Trails, which were enchanting.

I saw a pileated woodpecker.

We had a coffee at Overlook Bakery, then drove around looking at houses for sale and imagining what it would be like to live in one. My favorite one was a funeral home.

On Saturday morning, we went out and spent some time on the land around our house.

I made the Cafe Du Monde and we explored the extensive record collection. We listened to the Beatles and the Band on original vinyl. When we heard Levon’s voice in this setting, our hearts burst open.

For the first time, I felt the anxiety that runs through me all the time begin to relax.

Our niece Lindsay drove up from New Jersey.

We had lunch at the Bear Cantina then got a little tour of the theater.

We stopped at a roadside organic produce market then walked around in town and through the flea market.

It was a glorious day.

Morning and it was time to pack up and head out to our next location.

Not before Rocky took one last walk around the property, though, and one last nap.

We had a late breakfast at then took a drive to Fleischmann’s, filming location for the Dead Don’t Die, and Phoenicia, which was a really cool little town.

Our new home was a carriage house in town, a completely different vibe, and lovely.

We got settled in and put Radio Woodstock on the sound system.

It was the night of the full moon and there just happened to be an Abundance candle in the kitchen. So, I lit it and Tracy went out to grab some groceries. On his way, however, he saw that the drum circle was happening in the village circle, so he came back to get us.

It was incredible. A truly moving experience.

Grounded and energy raised.