I want to travel.
I want to travel.
I want to leave here.
See something new.
See myself as new.
I like turning around corners and not knowing what's coming next.
I like to feel the plane descending and touching new ground.
I like the new cooking smells wafting out of restaurants and windows.
I like the lilt and rhythm of people's voices,
Speaking words I don't yet understand.
I like seeing the color from a sunset paint a new town pink and orange.
I like seeing something so familiar happen in such an unfamiliar place.
I like people's passing curiosity in their eyes when they see me walk by.
I love being satisfied by so little.
But I'm not sure about the next time that can happen.
There are some things that are out of my control.
There are limitations at the moment.
And they frustrate me.
They make me feel weak,
Ineffective,
And wanting.
It's a challenge.
It's a challenge to just be here where I don't want to be.
And I'm very grateful for all that I have in this little life I've made.
Very grateful for food and shelter for work.
Very grateful for people who care about me,
Who check in on me.
Very grateful for my routine even.
Even as much as I want to break out of it.
I'm gonna use this gratitude to stay out of lack.
So what do I do in the meantime?
Well,
I accept that there is no meantime.
I have to shrink myself down into every moment I'm living.
Until the mundane becomes the unfamiliar.
Be more present than I have been.
There are no such things as days of the week.
No day is like this one.
Each one is a portal.
And when I wake up,
Before my feet touch the floor,
I tune into the vibration of the next 24 hours.
What does it want me to know?
What is it reflecting back to me about myself?
I tell everything to talk to me.
I tell it to show me in all the ways it can.
And when I go outside,
I pay attention to all the synchronicities.
To all the weird coincidences.
To the conversations I overhear.
To words written on t-shirts.
To birds singing.
To dogs who come to my hand.
To the weather.
And how the clouds move.
To mirror numbers that repeat on clocks and in the change I get back at the supermarket.
To children who fixate on me.
To the songs street musicians are playing on the street.
It's all talking to me.
It's all talking to me.
This flow doesn't have the geographical location.
It's happening anywhere I am.
All the time.
When I go outside,
I commit myself to exploring new things about where I live.
I go to natural sites.
Hotel rooftops.
Open mics.
Bike trails.
Anything that makes me see where I am with new eyes.
I'm shrinking myself down.
Down into every aspect of every little experience.
When I become small,
They get bigger.
Now I'm so small.
I'm savoring every sip of tea.
Every sip of juice.
Tasting the tartness and sweetness roll around my mouth.
I'm sitting down and slowly taking every bite of food.
Putting the perfect portion on my fork and breaking it down slowly.
I make it a long,
Satisfying meal.
I make it a long,
Satisfying meal.
So long that I actually feel myself getting full and it's impossible to overeat.
There's no distraction.
So I don't want to overeat.
I take a shower at night.
I imagine the water is silver and it's washing everything away that is not me.
All the stuck energy that has collected in me.
I see it washing down the drain.
And I'm so grateful that I can be renewed anytime I want to.
And I'm grateful that water is so plentiful.
So plentiful that I forget it's plentiful.
I'm even grateful for the way I usually rush through my routine because it makes this moment even more special.
I'm careful to know that my desire for travel can also be a disguised desire to be away from the present moment.
There's a sneaky,
Stubborn part of me that says,
If I can't travel,
Then I will enjoy everything I can do less.
It's a subconscious bargain.
But it's not true.
I have now.
I have the zero point,
The center of all potential inside of me.
And the truth is,
I can go there anytime I want to.
Wherever I go,
And wherever I stay,
There I am.
So be it.
