Am I the only one that feels this tension, this pulling within?
I am so afraid of being grounded, yet at times it’s what I want more than anything.
I decided, years ago, I’d rather be a wanderer.
But lately I feel old.
Lately I want to take my belongings out of storage.
Lately I want to live somewhere where I can build a home.
I know these thoughts are ok but sometimes I hate them.
I hate the thought of being stuck.
I think, “I used to be wild and free.”
But no one is putting chains on me but me.
(This is me surviving.Walking, pacing, watching the sky change.)
I always tell people to embrace these seasons of coming and going, of no strings attached.
It’s not like I have a family to take care of.
It’s not like I even have a job where I am stuck in one place.
(But oh at times, how green the grass seems anywhere else.)
I am 26 and no more sure than I was 10 years ago.
But I am ready for life to not be about me.
So I tell myself I can follow my passion.
I can live in abundance…
Wait….. I do.
I do live in abundance.
I have so much beauty, love, people. I am doing what I love, too.
Someone from New England asked me last night if I just love living in Texas.
After 8 years I could say honestly that I do.
(Trust me, even forming those words is an act of rebellion to my vagabond soul.)
I used to count my days by the places I went.
I relished living out of a suitcase.
I dreamed of endless places and people and possibilities.
It was never easy but it was worth the freedom I felt.
Have I gotten so comfortable?
Have I fallen into desiring normal instead of living an adventure?
Those things that were so intertwined in the fabric of my being, being reminded over and over that it’s not only ok not to know, but I’d rather not, cause
“Life is better off a mystery.”
So I can be free.
Every day can be magical
It’s all up to me.
I ask myself,
“Can I be a tree or can I be the wind?”
The answer is,
“Both.”
“When did I lose it?” I ask, fearing the worst.
The answer is,
“Never.”
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