Three and a
half weeks of travels, and I still don't feel like I've seen the world. I
guess this hunger is only temporarily satisfied like my normal daily
hungers. I love every new experience now that it's all in hindsight, but
I was all too ready to return. And I surprised even myself with that.
I
think often of what makes life full and meaningful. And what I just did
certainly ranks at the top of that. But I fear that many will too
quickly assume extravagance and heavy expense are necessary. But
truthfully, fullness is, the majority of the time, found in candles and
fresh flowers. Food prepared by familiar hands. Live musical sounds.
Invigorating conversation by those drunk on the excitement of being
together. An afghan and the written word.
I
find my life unsettling in its awkward position of the in-between.
Contentment and desire. I choose always to be happy where I am, but I
always want more. I always want to see something else while I want to
stay home and sleep.
And
now, two weeks after those travels have ended, I can't believe that so
much of what I have been working toward has finally happened, and I'm
left with the only thing I know how to do now, which is to ask: now
what? There are too many things that I want to do in my time in this
world, and I've mentioned many of them here before. But if there's
anything I have to do, it is to keep writing. And through that I will
hopefully find a way to all those other things that I want. I would love
to one day lose myself in the titles of librarian, teacher, editor,
writer, bookseller. But at the same time, I have piles of yarn,
cookbooks rarely opened, journals still unfamiliar to the pen, a guitar
case collecting dust, tennis balls somewhere, and I swore to myself that
I would learn to french braid and drive a manual before I died. I would
also like to master chess and sourdough bread. I have patterns and
fabric waiting for me, and if I believe about the world the things I say
I believe about the world, I better learn how to make my own living.
And I mean make my own money as well as make my own food and clothes and
gardens and sugar scrub.
That
was a bit of a rave. But it brings me to my next point which is a bit
of encouragement. Go to your local farmer's market before you make a
trip to Walmart. When your clothing rips, don't buy new ones right away.
Make a friend who has a sewing machine. When you meet your copains, don't go out to eat, make a mess in somebody's kitchen.
If your house is stuffy, try to plant something before you pay too much
money for the Febreze plug-in. These are only a few of the many places
and moments where community sprouts, and through that, I believe one can
find that life is full, because everything you think you need and all
the things you weren't aware you needed are hidden there.
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