It’s so NOT about the destination.

I’ve always said you can’t get to where you want to go if you don’t know where that is. I never used to worry about the HOW as long as I had the WHAT.

Now I think had it all wrong.

For the first time in my life, I’m beginning to understand that the journey IS its own adventure, and not just a stepping stone to arrive or land where we think we’re supposed to “end up”. Whoa.

After a really rough year, I’m five weeks into my six month quest to eat, pray, love, heal and create a blueprint for renovating my life. I rented out my LA bungalow by the beach and fled east just as 2020 rolled in, after a year that beat me down through Malibu wildfires, serious gut problems that landed me in the hospital for a month, and the untimely death of the inimitable Grandy, my mom and BFF. We were twin souls, and her inimitable spirit motivated me every day. Her passing took me to my knees.

Grandy and I co-founded Campowerment, our family owned summer camp-inspired, expert-led wellness program, fueled by the power of playtime. Campowerment was born in 2013 in my parents’ little Vail apartment and since then, 5000 people have come through our life-altering program…one that’s been hailed by O!, Parade and MORE Mags, The Hollywood Reporter and the TODAY Show. My 31 year old daughter Chelsea is now our CEO.

Because of the community our family built through Campowerment, I feel blessed to be a part of something bigger than just us, and that gives my life purpose. But I’m not gonna lie…this work has taken its toll on my own life.

I was once told by a spiritually powerful human that the reason I’m so exhausted is that I have devoted my life to making gourmet meals for everyone, but I’m content to eat cornflakes with no milk myself. How right she was. When my my mom died, I knew it was finally time to put ME at the top of my to-do.

I ran away from home on January 1, because I knew if I didn’t stop all the noise around me, and take more time for myself, I would get sick again. I thought if I changed up my scenery, I could rest and work on some new projects, be kinder to myself and reignite my own soul. To live Grandy-er, in the positive light that lit up my mom most of her life. I just needed to find some time and space for quiet reflection, to heal and mourn her. And just BE.

There’s never a right time to check out from real life. I needed another surgery. And we’re about to launch Fancy Camp, our exciting and new, luxury version of Campowerment. I need to work. I’ve got a screenplay brewing that needs a month or two to get outta my head and onto my computer, and there’s a whole lotta research on the concept of Legacy my mom left behind, ready to be pored over and maybe even resurrected. I am always too busy, and there’s never enough downtime to even catch my breath (sound familiar?)

In early December, some loving and overly generous friends, sensing my overwhelm, dropped some breadcrumbs. And I followed them.

“We’ve got an apartment in Philly sitting empty, if you want to hunker down there and start your healing process,” said one kind, loving soul.“I have a guest house in Sarasota that’s available this winter. When things calm down, you’re welcome to take some time to recover there”, said another. And another. And another. Before I knew it, I had been given carte blanche, to take a giant break and commit to dive deep. To plot my next moves, minus the dry cornflakes.

I didn’t have any idea, not even an image or a picture of what I was chasing when I fled 72 and sunny for the gypsy life in the Northeast, smack dab in the middle of winter. Ten days after yet another surgery. I had a rough plan to go work on the projects in motion, get back into dating and hopefully, find my way out of the dark. By simply walking through it.

I spent the month of January in the heart of Center City Philadelphia, in a magnificent 2 BR apartment, hunkered down. I arrived feeling depleted, ready to slow my life down and start grieving for all that was lost last year. My stability. My healthy plumbing. And mostly, my mom. Today is three months since she passed away.

I began processing my pain by getting quiet. Shutting off the noise.Went on a TV and social media fast. I did my best to disconnect, and ignore the constant barrage of text messages from loving and concerned friends. Let calls go to voice mail. Listened only to my own voice, and to music that moved me. Oldies mostly. Songs that triggered beautiful memories. I spent limited time with my soul family, my forever camp friends from the 1970s. But mostly, I chose to sit this time out alone. To stop fighting the pain and cry. A lot. Not what I expected on my mission to Live Grandy-er. Although the foundation of my life used to feel rock solid, I felt ready, once again, to take the wrecking ball to it. At 60, with kids grown and flown, and a business that could be run from anywhere, I went searching for my soul.

Every morning at the crack of dawn, I meditated, followed by some yoga. Then I’d bundle up and venture out early, exploring a different neighborhood each day. I would come back and journal before jumping into work mode. This is how my journey began:

Journal entry from 1/8:

“Yes life has knocked me down a little, even tried to flatten me like a pancake, and it’s not easy trying to pull myself up. Grandy was my North Star and I didn’t realize how dependent I was on her to help guide me. Without her I feel lost, sad, angry, and lonely. I miss my mommy. I just want to talk to her and hear her tell me this is all gonna be OK. I want to feel her and know she is with me. But I don’t. I am scared and worried about my future, and I don’t want to be a burden to my kids. I’m depressed, and they’ve never seen me like this. I wish I was as brave as everyone thinks I am. I have no idea why I even came to Philadelphia. Because wherever I go, there I am. I hope I’m not making a huge mistake. Grandy, I need a sign. You told me when I saw a flamingo, that would mean you were with me. But I haven’t seen a single one since I got here. Where are you?”

Journal entry from 1/14:

“Today it’s really hitting me and I am miserable. Still no idea where this hiatus will take me spiritually or mentally, but this morning, before the sun comes up, I allow myself, once again, to sit in the sadness. I’ve been up since 4 AM and the grief envelops me in a way I’ve never felt before. Had a fabulous date on Saturday that lasted seven hours, and though we smooched from Old City to Chinatown to South Street, I drank alcohol for the first time in months, and it must’ve really affected me. Because I’ve been in a downward spiral ever since. If I was really living life as Grandy did, twenty minutes at a time, I would say “oh well.” I’m trying to let things roll, as she always did. But I’m not her, and this ain’t easy.

I have lots of work to do before I can settle into this eat pray love and heal my heart mentality that I came here to explore. I can’t clear the fog long enough to understand what that even means. I took all the right steps, but all I see is darkness around me. It’s such a pity because I love being in Philly and wish I had the energy and desire to spend the quality time I dreamed about with my childhood friends here. But I just want to throw myself a pity party and be alone right now.

Staying busy, I am learning, is not a good thing for me. It just has me living in the land of make believe, ignoring my reality. Sitting in the pain makes my suffering real. Feeling it deeply, then pushing past it, is the key to moving on. If only it were that simple.

Sitting here having coffee in Rittenhouse Square right now, freezing, because I forced myself to leave the apartment for the first time in three days. Thought a nice long walk on this chilly January day would snap me out of this funk. I wish I could blame it on the lack of sunshine, but it’s my own light that’s dimmed. I’m so not used to it being murky like this. I suppose this is what grief and mourning looks like?

But somehow, as time is passing and I’m not making a dent in the long list of things I thought I was going to accomplish on this journey, that has to be ok. I need to try to stop focusing on becoming, and more on just being. Every time my head takes over and I try to imagine what my life is eventually going to look like, the more I am reminded that the belief in a future heaven sometimes creates a present hell.”

Uplifting, eh? Not so much.

I am learning to live in the moments, and working hard to stay present every day. Thinking about the future only takes me away from the present, and I’m discovering the second I realize I’m not present, I actually AM. There is never a minute when life is not this very moment. So why do so many of us spend so much time in our heads worrying about tomorrow? Good question.

By week three, I’m all cried out and almost ready to crawl out of hibernation, when my favorite adopted Uncle Gene dies suddenly, and I’m off to Cleveland. (Cleveland? This is NOT on my itinerary) As my travel plans are shifting, I force myself to surrender and trust the process. Trust is the operative word here. For 60 years, my life has been over the top blessed, but for a few recent speedbumps, and the Universe has always had my back. So when the fear creeps in, and my inner voice tells me I’m doomed (as it does every day), I am training my brain to just let the negastivity go. And imagine that all will be OK. I believe that’s part of the healing process, for which there is no roadmap.

And though I still haven’t sat down to write my screenplay (which is now morphing into a series) or gone through Grandy’s legacy stuff, here’s what I’ve learned on leg one of my journey, as I pack up and prepare to move on to the next place:

1) If you don’t heal what hurt you, you will bleed on people who didn’t cut you. (thank you Meryl, for that one.) I am working hard, guided by professionals, to shift my way of thinking. To make peace with my past, and to live in gratitude for what I have, not what I lost. And to embrace the power of now, because that’s really all we have anyway.

2) Life is short. The horrific helicopter crash that killed 9 humans last month rocked all of us. I can’t stop thinking about everyone ELSE on that chopper who went down with Kobe and his kid. And all those they left behind. Just another reminder that whatever form of crazy we’re all dealing with, that something that’s threatening to keep us stuck, isn’t really all that bad after all.

See, nothing stops the sun from coming up each day. Healing, I now understand, is about staying in forward motion. Because none of us has any clue what tomorrow will bring, or if tomorrow will even get here. And so we keep plowing ahead.

Journal entry 1/31:

“I think the fog might actually be starting to lift. Came back from Cleveland with a nasty flu that took me down all week, and now that I’m feeling better physically, could my mental spin cycle be slowing down? Aweek in bed gave me plenty of time to get quiet reflection, and plot my next moves. Today I am grateful that I only cried twice. One day this week I wept nine times (yes, I counted) Today I remind myself that the only way out is through. Could I actually be making progress?”

On my next stop, I’m committed to refocusing, and reconnecting to my own divinity. Riding the waves and staying present, and letting the answers come to me, only when they’re ready. I want to be even more gentle with myself. Making no plans. Giving myself time to sit in the silence. Getting on my knees to pray, and being thankful for all I do have, knowing that the better tomorrow I’ve been focusing on is never coming, because it’s all right here, right now.

Wilmington, Delaware is my next destination, then I’m going home to be with my 91 year old grieving dad for a few days. After that,m I’m off to the west coast of Florida for a couple weeks, to sit in nature with my computer and write. From there, my plans are fluid, and I have no choice but to be OK with that.

I’m surprised by the number of people who tell me they wish they could do this. No one held a gun to my head and forced me to stay in the life that wasn’t working for me anymore. It’s called free will, and I’m choosing to exercise mine. I had to slow down and let my body speak to me, to get out of my head and into my heart, to nurture that mind-body connection that has eluded me. For too long, I have pushed myself too hard and I’m just now getting to know this me in a profoundly different way. I’m not who I used to be, though I know now I am only beginning to create a whole new story, even if I’m not yet sure what it is. I dare you to join me on this journey and do some dreaming for yourself. To manifest the life you would want to live if you had the chance to rebuild yours (because you do!)

I’m well aware that not everyone has the luxury to up and walk away from their life for half a year. But every one one us does have an opportunity to stop trying to “figure it out” and halt the frenetic race to the finish line of that bigger and better life that keeps eluding us. The one that feels further and further away, the harder we push.

See, the only thing we’ve got is the right now, and as I sit in the discomfort of the uncertainty of all that lies ahead, I am clear on one thing. This IS as good as it gets. And when I can’t hear and I can’t walk and I’m ready to go wherever it is that Grandy went, I’m gonna look back on this experience and cherish every moment of it. Packing up is bittersweet, and while I’m excited for my next chapter, I don’t want to to rush this, because I know this is the tomorrow I worried about yesterday. And it’s actually not so bad after all.