by Liz Jansen

This week I had the unenviable experience of riding through two separate, large storm systems, one on the fringe of a hurricane, as I rode east across the southern U.S.

It wasn’t my preferred manner of travel, or what I’d planned, but life has a way of overriding the best laid plans. In the end, I was trying to arrive at my friends’ place before a hurricane tore through the state.

The storm that enveloped me for 400 miles/640 km across Central Texas brought wind and rain. There was no time for introspection or enjoying the scenery. It was only in retrospect lessons to weather life’s storms—like relationships ending, financial woes, illness, and job loss—emerged.

10 Tips for Being in the Flow Through (Life’s) Storms

1. Be alert to impending change. A storm usually lets you know it’s on its way and gives you time to prepare. That gives you more options than when you feel blindsided. I could have waited a few days and taken a chance with the weather or cancelled my visit. I weighed the pros, cons, and risks, and decided to go for it. Once you’re committed, there’s no turning back.
2. Call on your skills. Whatever it is you’re dealing with, you’ll have resources to help you. I have tons of riding experience and moderate riding skills. This was not my first stormy ride, but even when you know what to expect, the reality is unpredictable.
3. Keep things in perspective. At one point when I’d pulled off to gas up Trudy, I could observe traffic plowing by on the highway. The mist thrown up by vehicles only rose a few feet off the pavement, right where I was riding, but above that it was relatively clear. When we’re in the thick of a storm, it feels all-encompassing and everlasting, but it may resolve sooner than we think.
4. Avoid getting caught up in other people’s turmoil. They too are navigating the storm they best they can and you have no control over their choices. The steady barrage of semis, added wind turbulence and kicked up a heavy mist. While I couldn’t avoid them, I learned how to position myself around the various profiles to cut the buffeting.
5. Avoid getting bogged down. The safest speed for me was slightly faster than most trucks. That minimized the number passing me and put me in a better position of control. Falling into a victim role gives away our power and with it our ability to deal with change.
6. Watch for help. A stranger at a travel plaza, a self-professed weather buff, came over to review the weather radar with me. Together we strategized how best for me to get through the next four hours of travel and stay in the lightest area of the storm.
7. Respect and consider the needs of others. Everyone we share the literal or metaphoric road with is weathering their own storm. They may not be on a motorcycle but they’re experiencing it in their own way and carrying their own loads.
8. Look after yourself. It’s important at all times but even more so during upheavals. I took more frequent breaks, and stayed nourished and hydrated. Drying off was out of the question.
9. Reassure your fear. The most ridiculous thoughts pop up and try to scare you off your path. What if the bike slid out from under me? What if I lost control in the wind (it wasn’t THAT bad), or skidded off the road? I’d ask myself why that would happen. My tires had lots of tread, I’d checked the air pressure that morning, and my load was balanced and well-positioned. I’d increased my buffer zone and the situation wasn’t beyond my skill level. I couldn’t let the “what-ifs” take hold or I would crash.
10. Trust—your self and your Higher Power. I knew I was guided and cared for. I had the skills, a trusty motorcycle, and could navigate the weather. It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t easy, and it tested my abilities to stay focused. As soon as I surrendered to that trust, I experienced serenity, a sense of being in the flow of life, (and traffic) even in the midst of the storm.

Storms help us grow. We don’t chose them and can’t control them but when they arrive, we must deal with them. How we weather one, determines how prepared we are for the next.

Photo on VisualHunt

by Liz Jansen

After making my way across the country, I stalled for a week in northern at the Horizons Unlimited travelers’ event, then visiting with friends in southern California. Today I’m back on the road, heading east to Georgia, planning to arrive there on the 12^th.

The weather in LA tried to lull me into a false sense of security. The warm, sunny climate is a stark contrast to the cool temps and rain that have been hanging around southern Ontario. As hard as it is to leave, I have to keep the weather in mind and arrive home before it gets even colder—and snowy.

The riding has been amazing, and so have the friends—old and new—I’ve spent time with along the way. Trudy’s received an oil change, new sprockets and a chain. We’re both reenergized and ready for the next act.

Today, it was imperative that I be on the road. It’s exactly a year since Dad passed, and I miss him dearly. Riding across the open landscape gives me time to honor his memory and celebrate his life. He loved the wide open spaces and I know he’s with me. “I trust,” were the last words I remember from him as he lay in surrender, a poignant reminder of what’s important as I go through my life’s journey.

More Crash Landing Blurbs and an Offer

Here are a few more endorsements from early reviewers.

“Made me want to hop on a motorcycle and travel not only ‘cross country but deep into my own spirit.” Joan Dempsey, award-winning author of This Is How It Begins.

“This is today’s version of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance if the book had been written by a sixty-year old woman with a bladder infection who had a great knack for crashing. Liz Jansen isn’t your typical rider, nor is this your typical self help book. Jansen will do whatever it takes to heal herself, and the result is compelling, startling, and fun.” Alexandra Shimo, author of Invisible North

“In a time when many seek adventure in unfamiliar corners of the world, Jansen proves “coming home” is more than just a destination—it’s about unveiling the ancestral influences that echo through time and highlight the generational and personal crossroads that lead to who we are today. You’ll relate to every mile of Liz’s journey.” Susan Johnson, Horizons Unlimited

Now it’s your turn! I’d really appreciate your help in marketing Crash Landing. I’m looking for readers who are interested in a free advance copy of Crash Landing, in exchange for posting a review on sites like Amazon and Goodreads the day it goes live (Dec. 6) (or within a couple of days). I’ll send you the links. If you can commit to that, please respond in the comments below. The first ten people to do so will get a copy! Thank you!

If you’d like to be the first to know about upcoming offers and events, respond in the comments below.

NOTE: Wow! Thank you!! We have (more than) our 10!  I’ll respond individually below! Watch for more offers! 

by Liz Jansen

This week’s post comes to you from the Horizons Unlimited travelers’ event in Mariposa, California. I’ve been awed by the ever-changing and stupendous natural beauty as I’ve traveled across the country. It’s the perfect way to cap the first leg of a remarkable road trip across the country—gathering with friends old and new, and sharing camaraderie, stories, and more stories with like-minded others!

Even more monumental, is the news that Crash Landing will be published and available on December 6!! You’ll be hearing more about it in the coming weeks, but for now, I’d like to share a few blurbs, which will give you a glimpse into what its pages tell.

“Stories change us. Liz Jansen’s story is both an adventure and a mesmerizing process of excavating the meaning, messages, and magic embedded in our everyday lives. Her journey is an invitation to be awake to the story our lives and the lives of our ancestors is telling. And that kind of story heals the heart.” ~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer, author of The Invitation

“Liz Jansen brings a rich vitality to several generations of ordinary people who become extraordinary through her painstaking research and beautiful writing. The Ancestor Trail is a journey with a difference: part road trip, part spiritual exploration, and part self-discovery, it answers questions that lie within all of us. I’m so glad she was able to overcome its many challenges to close the circle and tell this story.” Mark Richardson, author of Zen and Now, editor of Canada Moto Guide 

“Warning! Crash Landing is an emotional tour-de-force that may drive you to explore your own Ancestral Trail. BYO vehicle, baggage, and spirit guides! Jansen’s meticulously-researched historical account of her Mennonite grandparents’ exodus from Bolshevik Russia to the farmlands of Canada is a captivating journey through history and its effect on generations to come. Crash Landing demonstrates the power, drive, and generosity of the traveler and those she encounters to pass through any obstacles on a healing journey.” Carla King, author of American Borders

I intended to be here in Mariposa four years ago, on my way to Central and South America. As you know, life changed and my plans evaporated. Writing Crash Landing is done. Being here now is symbolic of the completion of an amazing cycle and the beginning of something new. I can’t think of a better preparation for releasing my book and accepting whatever comes next than to be on this road trip.

More to come about the launch—and the book—in the coming weeks!

by Liz Jansen

Five days into another road trip and I’m settled in to the uncertainty and unpredictability of life on the road.

Thinking I could get 650 km/400 miles behind me the first day, I made a reservation at a KOA in Millbury, Indiana. Last minute preparations meant I got a late start. I took Interstates, to make distance and get through Michigan’s automotive country. Riding at 75 mph, dodging semis, was not pleasurable, nor was the industrial landscape.

The tranquil-looking tent-site was misleading. Out of sight less than a stone’s throw away, was a gully, through which ran a busy State Road. What I didn’t see until the morning was that the very tired KOA property backed onto intersection of two busy semi-carrying roads. In a fascinating juxtaposition, the clop, clop, clop of horses pulling buggies along the shoulder, tried to counterbalance the frenzy.

Was the day’s energy mirroring back the energy I was projecting? Did I need such a frenetic reminder? Likely—to both. It was the first day of a new way of being. I haven’t worked from the road in quite some time and any change is unsettling, even when it’s eagerly anticipated.

I’ve adopted a more reasonable pace of approximately 400 km/260 miles a day. That leaves time for delays like Tuesday’s severe storm—waited out in a gas station, stopping to rest in small-town squares, or cooling off in little libraries while I tend to other business.

Riding reminds me of my spirit and humanness—and invigorates both. The beauty and energy of the land, trees, sky, and rivers fills me with peace and gratitude. For four days, I’ve ridden secondary highways through small towns, vast cornfields, and pastureland. It’s an intimate glimpse into everyday life of real people living life the best they know how. Contrary to the factory-scapes of day one, mass producing stuff, much of which we don’t need, it’s grounding being on the land that grows our food, watching the harvest, seeing the massive trucks that transport it to the next step (even when I have to duck flying corn cobs) on the way to our table—a very real reminder of our humanness.

Not surprisingly I overestimated how much “work” I could get done on the road. It used to frustrate me; now I recognize the familiar voice that’s driving me to ride further, keep pushing, and get more done. Change makes that voice louder. As in the rest of my life, I’m learning to practice mindfulness whatever I’m doing. I’ve realized that being on the road, remaining in a state of surrender and acceptance even when things don’t go as I think they should, is my “work” just as much as the other projects I’m involved with.

I’m moving down the road. The mountains, and all their wisdom, await.

Photo credit: Nicholas_T on Visualhunt.com / CC BY