I think this film photo from Washington a few months ago is just about the most accurate and perfect portrait representation of my year.
The Road.
One of the foremost loves of my life.
I have been home for two weeks now.
333 days before that were spent largely in my car all across this country.
But now I am back in Virginia, I won’t say for how long, mostly because I don’t know. And though it makes others uncomfortable I’m usually okay with not knowing. It puts me in a place of trust in something (someone) other than myself and I know that’s the best place to be.
I am happy.
To be amongst my people and the other strips of pavement that don’t represent the proverbial “Road” to me, but are open and inviting nonetheless. Familiar in their curves and bumps, they illicit a different type of pleasure. One of anchored contentment, knowing and recognition.
Of home.
Consistency too.
Which has always been one of the two dualities in my makeup.
My love for nesting, being in a space of my own and near my people who I’ve spent a decade or two or (nearly) three doing life with.
But also my addiction to newness—it is the thing in me that tugs at my center when I’ve been stationary and stagnant too long.
Which I recognize not only as a physical state but a mental one as well.
Most people think this is a thing I will outgrow.
A characteristic of indecision and lack of maturity. Of youthful “wanderlust” and do-it-now-while-you-can.
I used to believe them.
Used to be ashamed of my insatiable appetite and voracious curiosity. “You’re just restless” people would say.
“Oh, you’re finding yourself…”
But actually, I’ve known for quite some time who I am.
I have for most of my life.
As a child I remember being quite sure of things. Sure of myself. Sure of what I wanted to do. It is only with age that I somehow reverted and lost this confidence.
Perhaps because there is more at risk. But I don’t even know if I really believe that.
I think we get tricked into thinking there’s more to lose, but really, it’s the same always. We are just more trusting when we are new and resilient to the voices trying to tell us otherwise.
I’m fortunate to have a few people in my life who encouraged and watered the garden of my abnormalities but there is only so much you can do in the way of becoming grounded in yourself with others trying to do all of the work for you. At some point you need to take root in the knowing yourself and do some pruning of your own.
I encountered a great many people this year who thought what I was doing, traveling alone as a woman, quite insane and unsafe.
But I also encountered those who encouraged it.
But neither should matter. Whichever way the scale tips in its outward affirmation of who we are: we know.
We know because if you pause long enough to listen, you will hear that rhythm inside of you that was created and placed in exactly you and made to push you towards your place of purpose.
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