There is something about this day that keeps calling me outside.
I have been in and out all morning, inside working, then, feeling this magnetic pull, back out.
A cup of tea, some photos, playing with the crazy kittens that spend their days outside, hunting. Back in for more work. Accomplishing what must be accomplished. And when that is done, the must-do part of my day, I shall start on the should-do portion. Should pull these weeds, should paint that door, should make more jewelry, should do paperwork, or laundry, or vacuum, or dust. I don’t know where to start, which direction to point my feet in.
Except, there must be something to this, this not knowing where I’m going, this walking along a path with no a compass, because I am not afraid. Not lost.
Just here, navigating my way by feel and instinct and some inner sense of who I am, or want to be.
Just here, witnessing each day as it unfolds before me, not judging or wishing for a better one. Not dreaming or pretending or lamenting a life I do not have. But living this one. Sitting in my garden in the room I have built from flowers and earth and sky.
A giant room in my tiny world. I can see everything from here.
It took me such a long time to arrive. I stumbled a lot and ran in circles and backtracked and trudged through rain and desert, wind and forest, sun and swamp. You can’t follow in my footsteps, even I can’t retrace them, couldn’t tell you where I started, or when I turned left rather than right, or even who I was on the day this journey began. I walked at night by the light of the moon, sometimes, and often, I walked all day. I trusted my heart to guide my feet. I carried my fear in a pack on my back, always behind me.
I am just here.
With this feeling that my entire life led me to this exact place and this feeling that it really was all for a reason and this feeling that I am about to be somewhere else.
Just like every other day, I suppose.