Settings vary slightly. Bare feet anchored to the mat, I twist my body to mimic the the Yogi’s form and align chakras. Re-positioning feet on the sailboat. Greek air rumbles past my ears like the soothing rhythm of a box fan. No matter where I am, I am usually alone. This is my Utopian fantasy.

I’ve always taken mental vacations as a way to cope with my daily struggles. The more challenging my reality becomes, the easier it is for me to retreat into a mental vacation paradise. I mutate the mundane. Scrubbing a sink is waxing a surf board. My shower is a grotto waterfall. The rising volume of my boys bickering is… well, I still haven’t found a way to transform that.

Fall arrives. My health deteriorates and stress increases. My Utopian fantasy shifts to concrete action. I am researching Greek currency conversion rates and airfare prices. The US dollar conversion rate is favorable. I will survive solely on a diet of Greek bread slathered with kalamata olive tapenade. I’ll sail through the Ioanian sea to Crete.

I’m comparing the features and benefits of yoga training facilities in India. I’ll earn my yoga instruction certification after six weeks. I’ll drink a lot of water and lose at least ten pounds. Toxins and all of my stress will escape through my sweaty pores. I will survive on a vegan diet of lentils and curried vegetables.

I pack a day pack with my passport, swimsuit, Chaco sandals, a couple of lightweight wash and wear outfits, snacks and toiletries. I siphon $1000 cash from our emergency fund. This is an emergency.

I hide my day pack in our storage unit. I am the only person with a key.

I tell no one.

I am plotting the escape from my life.

Logistical questions disrupt my Utopian fantasy. How much more money will I need to fly somewhere far away? How long will I be gone before my family starts searching for me? How can I hide, and survive in a foreign country when I only speak English? Is it possible to escape in a world with facial recognition software, RF chipped passports and social media? How long can I run?

I evade the questions.

I will become someone else. I am a cocktail slinging bartender. I am a childless, former investment banker. I am a woman young enough to be unburdened by a mortgage, running a business, schedules, and responsibilities.

I am a woman responsible only for herself.

His voice shifts my focus to the present. “You’ve told me about the responsibilities you have with work and your family. But, what do you do for fun, Jen?”

I visualize my day pack.

“I like to spend time alone.”

This article is part of Hoagies’ Gifted Education monthly blog hop series. This month’s theme is Utopian Fantasy. Please, read more articles from my gifted and talented friends by clicking here or on the graphic below.


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