It was a hot, dry heat: the midst of a Montana summer. I'd been driving for hours, traversing the U.S. for the second time on my own. My eyes were thirsty to see something loom on the horizon: anything but the rolling hills and squat shrubs that makes up the bleak landscape of route 90. So when I spotted a grove of tall trees standing shoulder to shoulder just off the highway, I veered toward it. It turned out the only reason anyone had found to plant trees out here was for the love of the dead. It was in this cemetery, under the stream of a lone sprinkler ticking off circles, that I danced around and played in the spray like a child.
In that play I felt the release of energy stored--for any dances I'd held still for, and any songs I'd silenced in the past. As I danced I honored in my heart those buried around me, and celebrated being alive. Wet and laughing, I danced until I felt like I made some kind of dent in the deficit of love, joy and pleasure that seems all too common in life. When I stopped dancing, I sat in the middle of the empty road, eating my lunch, listening to some soulful singer-song-writer, and resolving to keep letting go of fear, welcoming joy, and being in love. This is the distillation of what my life is truly about.
I think our societal standards are just products of human ideas -- and I feel driven to live my life according to my own ideas, rather than allowing subset of pre-written rules define what is right for me simply out of default.
What's been the most right for me so far has blossomed forth from a drive to live authentically, to truly know who I am and operate from the highest part of my being, along with careful attention to being present in the moment. I want to keep doing expanding my awareness and my knowledge--growing, learning, experiencing; taking better risks, and finding ever more safety and comfort in my own authenticity.
pacific northwest, portland, OR, San Francisco, CA, Austin, TX, Kyoto, Japan, Ein Gedi, Kinneret, St. Thomas