"The most precious parts of life are portable, not conditions of geography." A quote from A Thousand Days in Venice sent to me by a friend today. My mouth fell open when I read it. I mean it's a simple and true statement, but what made it so significant to me was that for the past two days, hell, two months, I have been thinking and saying almost these exact same words.
Life isn't just about what is happening right where you are at. It's so much bigger than that. It's all connected. We feel. We know. When we are separated by great distances from ones we love: parents, siblings, children, friends, lovers, places we call home, places we want to call home, places that our wanderlust heart calls us to. What is precious to you remains precious to you no matter where you are. It's portable. It goes with you. When you are separated from someone, someplace, your precious part, you still feel it. You still know it. It doesn't just stop being precious because it isn't with you. It remains the same, no matter where you are geographically located at.
I have a propensity for wanderlust. Something I was born with. I don't know if this is a common feeling most people get but for me it is such a strong pull that sometimes my skin feels like it is crawling. Usually I can satisfy it with movement, similar in nature, but it never truly satisfies it. It's like a carnivore trying to live a vegetarian life and getting it's main source of protein energy on tofu. Sure, it will work for a little bit but it can't be long term. A few months ago I had told my friend/adventure partner (A.P.) that I felt like pulling inwards and running away. But being who I was, I put on a brave face and carried on. Life and its flow were amazing to be apart of but the pull can hurt, too. A.P. responded in the way only he can respond with this, "Ah, yes...wanderlust's pull...so intoxicating that if one is deprived thereof, it cuts deeply. All else we can do is carry on until the day when our dreams are realized. A person with a propensity for wanderlust is not so much addicted to movement as committed to transformation". I think that sums it up perfectly. And it sums up me perfectly. I have to move, I have to do things, I have to go. But what is precious to me never changes. Where I go I also take my heart. Whether it be me coming back from Hawaii and leaving a part of me there. I know I will go back. It's precious to me. And also when I go to live there, if my children aren't with me, I take them in my heart with me because they are precious parts of me. All of it is portable, not conditions of geography.
I have a wonderous internal compass. A fabulous trait that tells me where I need to go and where I am. It's like I can never truly be lost because I know where I am even if I look around and don't recognize what I see. The problem for me is when I don't quiet myself enough to feel it. When this happens this is when I do begin to feel lost, unnerved, unhappy. These feelings also come when my compass is pointing in one way and I can't move to get to the direction it is pointing. Trapped doesn't even begin to describe the magnitude of boxed in I feel. It's despairing. My skin crawls and it's difficult to move. That's me right now. Struggling, clawing. Where I am at and where I need and want to be are so different. I do have the precious parts that I will always have with me, but sometimes, like, now, in the wee hours of the night, the precious parts just aren't tangible enough. And the deep knife wound that has recently been inflicted on my heart just makes it all the worse. This mermaid's compass feels like it is spinning around like a top and she has been out of the salt water for far too long. I am flopping on a piece of landlocked dry land, unable to get a breath. But I move, in any way I can, because I can feel my dreams, so close, so existent. I can't give up. I can't lay down. I can't go back to sleep, the way I was before. The ocean is there, the breath is there, the compass is speaking, and the wound will heal.
Life isn't just about what is happening right where you are at. It's so much bigger than that. It's all connected. We feel. We know. When we are separated by great distances from ones we love: parents, siblings, children, friends, lovers, places we call home, places we want to call home, places that our wanderlust heart calls us to. What is precious to you remains precious to you no matter where you are. It's portable. It goes with you. When you are separated from someone, someplace, your precious part, you still feel it. You still know it. It doesn't just stop being precious because it isn't with you. It remains the same, no matter where you are geographically located at.
I have a propensity for wanderlust. Something I was born with. I don't know if this is a common feeling most people get but for me it is such a strong pull that sometimes my skin feels like it is crawling. Usually I can satisfy it with movement, similar in nature, but it never truly satisfies it. It's like a carnivore trying to live a vegetarian life and getting it's main source of protein energy on tofu. Sure, it will work for a little bit but it can't be long term. A few months ago I had told my friend/adventure partner (A.P.) that I felt like pulling inwards and running away. But being who I was, I put on a brave face and carried on. Life and its flow were amazing to be apart of but the pull can hurt, too. A.P. responded in the way only he can respond with this, "Ah, yes...wanderlust's pull...so intoxicating that if one is deprived thereof, it cuts deeply. All else we can do is carry on until the day when our dreams are realized. A person with a propensity for wanderlust is not so much addicted to movement as committed to transformation". I think that sums it up perfectly. And it sums up me perfectly. I have to move, I have to do things, I have to go. But what is precious to me never changes. Where I go I also take my heart. Whether it be me coming back from Hawaii and leaving a part of me there. I know I will go back. It's precious to me. And also when I go to live there, if my children aren't with me, I take them in my heart with me because they are precious parts of me. All of it is portable, not conditions of geography.
I have a wonderous internal compass. A fabulous trait that tells me where I need to go and where I am. It's like I can never truly be lost because I know where I am even if I look around and don't recognize what I see. The problem for me is when I don't quiet myself enough to feel it. When this happens this is when I do begin to feel lost, unnerved, unhappy. These feelings also come when my compass is pointing in one way and I can't move to get to the direction it is pointing. Trapped doesn't even begin to describe the magnitude of boxed in I feel. It's despairing. My skin crawls and it's difficult to move. That's me right now. Struggling, clawing. Where I am at and where I need and want to be are so different. I do have the precious parts that I will always have with me, but sometimes, like, now, in the wee hours of the night, the precious parts just aren't tangible enough. And the deep knife wound that has recently been inflicted on my heart just makes it all the worse. This mermaid's compass feels like it is spinning around like a top and she has been out of the salt water for far too long. I am flopping on a piece of landlocked dry land, unable to get a breath. But I move, in any way I can, because I can feel my dreams, so close, so existent. I can't give up. I can't lay down. I can't go back to sleep, the way I was before. The ocean is there, the breath is there, the compass is speaking, and the wound will heal.
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