There are a few quiet months between the holidays and the emergence of the life in spring where my soul aches deeper for adventure than any other time. The world quiets down after the hustle and bustle of December and early January. The world complacently settles back into daily routines and the unknown corners of the world start to pull at my restless heart strings.
I grew up in a tiny town in a house on a hill nestled next to an expansive wood full of woodland creatures and trickling streams. I have always enjoyed the feeling of being lost in the middle of the world with nothing but my thoughts and senses. It has allowed my creativity to blossom and my sense of self to grow roots. I always wandered through our woods purposefully aimless. Allowing my next step and direction to be guided by the beautiful tree or the sound of a bird. When I am a solivagant in these woods I can feel a warm, glowing light beaming out of the middle of my chest. It brings me back to center and gives me the craving to explore not only my inner depths, but the depths and layers of the beauty that exists in the world around us.
I believe it was these small moments next to these big trees that lead me to have this ever constant thirst to go into the world and soak up as much of it as I can. There is no feeling to match that of stepping off of a bus or train or plane and laying your eyes on people and places that you have never seen before. Trying to imprint every bit of beauty into the archives of your memory. Opening your senses up to new smells and colors and movements that did not exist to you before that moment. It is a rush that is, for me, never satisfied.
So, today I sit next to those thick woods planning my next escape into the world to wander next to vivid and vibrant people that I have not yet known. I am in the home I grew up in feeling home sick for my soul’s home: the state that I reach when purposefully lost and full of think and spilling over light. Let’s go. Let’s go get lost.