Riding across the country last time (Oct. 2011 – Nov. 2013) I had two experiences over and over again. The first was experiencing the incredible level of courage and generosity of my fellow citizens who were willing to offer hospitality to a stranger who rode up out of nowhere with a couple of ponies and a dream, looking for a place where we could stop for the night. Most evenings found me riding up to a likely looking place, knocking on the door, explaining the improbable as though it was ordinary. “Hi! My name is Sea and I’m riding across the country with those two manure factories who are grazing on your lawn. We’re looking for a place that we might be able to spend the night and I noticed that empty pasture (or paddock or patch of lawn) and wondered if that might be a possibility? Or if you have any ideas of a place we could stay?”

Over and over again I was made welcome. Sometimes a place to pitch my tent, sometimes a guest house or an empty camper or a place in the barn, sometimes a bed in their guest room, a couch, a quick phone call to a neighbor who had a pasture or might know where we could get a bale of hay. So often I was invited in to share a meal (with zero notice!) and offered the chance to take a shower, to wash my clothes, a ride to town to resupply, breakfast, a bag lunch – it was amazing, humbling, life changing and shockingly consistent for 5000 miles. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it. I finished my ride with a renewed faith in the human beings I was privileged to share this beautiful country with.

The other thing that happened with remarkable consistency was these friendly, generous, hospitable people warning me about “those people over there” – places down the road ahead that I should absolutely avoid because those people were dangerous, untrustworthy, troublesome, scary. Warnings that sometimes came with the question “are you carrying a gun?” and even offers to give me a gun and some lessons on how to use it. The haves warned me about the have nots and the have nots warned me about the haves. People in Phoenix warned me about the Apache and the Apache warned me about the Mormons and the Mormons said that if only I’d become a Mormon then other Mormons all the way across the country would help me on my way. And I’d smile and ride on and those scary people down the road would welcome me in with that same courageous hospitality. They would feed me when I was hungry, shelter me when it stormed, offer me a wide-brimmed hat when the sun pounded down, care for the ponies when I was injured and needed time to heal, stitch up my face when I was clumsy and fell.

And then (blessedly late in the ride) I was convinced by very well meaning people that I needed to get on Facebook. At first, I was so busy with finishing the ride with as much grace as I could muster, keeping up with the blog, keeping the herd safe and fed, moving to Mississippi (where I didn’t have access to the internet at home) and just basically trying to figure out how to survive post-ride, that I didn’t have a lot of time for Facebook. I had my blog set to let the facebook followers know when I had a new post, I occasionally got on to answer a few questions or interact with followers, but zero time for scrolling. And that was ok.

Then, ten years ago when I was back on Vieques for awhile, about the time I put up one last post and tried to disappear, suddenly living alone, with time and access to the internet, that all changed. I found myself on Facebook for real, scrolling through memes posted by some of the very people I had stayed with on my long ride. Kind, generous, hospitable people who had welcomed me in and fed me and told me their stories. People I’d had (what I thought were real) conversations about politics and the state of our beloved nation. People I’d found so much common ground with on so many topics. People who had invited me to church services. And I realized that I didn’t know them at all. People reveling in their hatred, their distrust, their desire for violence, somehow all in the name of Jesus. Not all of them, but enough to freak me out. It was honestly terrifying. Disorienting.

A decade has gone by. During that time I moved to Lopez Island out in Puget Sound, Washington. I found a haven here with a stranger who has become my closest friend. I became a hermit, I worked on my memoir, I tried (and failed) to give myself that wilderness Long Ride I’d promised myself so many years ago. I’ll fill you in on those stories over time.

But a year or so ago, the talking heads on the telly and YouTube started saying “Democracy is in Danger” and “Everybody needs to do their part!” It all sounded very urgent and I don’t disagree – but what, exactly is “my part?” I’m 60 years old, I’m increasingly disabled, I have no money or status in “the world,” I’m literally a Nobody with limited energy and resources and a life expectancy in years I can count on one hand. And then I started remembering all those conversations I had as I crossed the country, the kind and generous people taking me in, many of them quoting Hebrews 13:2 – “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” I remembered all those miles of finding common ground with the most unlikely people and I started to wonder if that was still possible in the current political climate, when our country seems to be irreparably divided, so many people coming across as blind drunk on hate and intolerance – but what if that’s all just part of the evil magic of social media? What if that’s just a very loud minority – not who we are as a Nation. What if I could go out again and still find common ground with strangers? Figure out how to rebuild broken bridges of understanding. Step into the traces one more time and do my part. I felt a distinct sense of being Called to do this thing. A bit differently than last time, I have a few challenges to overcome, but slowly, surely, the pieces are falling into place and the picture of my next adventure is coming clear.

Stay tuned! (Also – apparently people have been having a hard time leaving comments or subscribing. I think I’ve fixed the issues, but if you find anything still glitching I’d appreciate the heads up.)