Chupacabra Bugs

I can hear cicadas.

They're everywhere, a sound that is both constant and ever changing. The sound is always there, but the tone, direction, and volume all change moment to moment.

It's a bit like life, when you think on it.

I'm sitting outside a condo in Sedona, AZ, at night. I've finished my first official day without Lamictal.

The song is, really, no different than when it started this morning. I'm really no different, and I really couldn't tell the difference if I didn't know. It's just one day; I go one day without my medication all the time.

This, however, is me off of it entirely, for better or for worse. I wasn't particularly happy with how it made me feel in terms of my creativity and how I approached life. Some say there's an energy in Sedona that can't be found anywhere else. I can't speak to that; I stood atop one of Sedona's famed "vortices" yesterday and felt nothing except for the heat and the breeze.

I'm not one to come in search of a spiritual revelation - I came here because it's beautiful. Without much light pollution or clouds, the stars actually twinkle here, in a way I don't always see at home. During the day, I'm surrounded by cliffs of a startling red hue. There's enough in that for me.

I'm going to get ready to get some sleep as we're getting up early to go to the Grand Canyon, but I think there's lots I'd like to say.

For now, it's me, my husband, a nice cold hard cider, and the cicada choir.

Fun fact: before we figured out that they were cicadas, my husband called them "Chupacabra Bugs".