No more distractions-

Why is a windy day such an inspiration to write? As I walk through the woods and breezes stir the leaves around me, they simultaneously stir up thoughts and forms sentences- even as I try to push them away. I think back to some of the first words I penned for others to see- heady thoughts about jumping or easing in and the declaration that I was jumping- and yet I still feel I walk the cliff’s edge. 

I cashed the check today- so I have the money for the bus immediately on hand for any opportunity that presents itself. I have open invitations of friends to help assess the bus, access to a wood shop to build the inside, all the steps lay poised to take- and don’t worry- take them I will. I owe it to myself to make this dream happen. And while I don’t necessarily owe it to others, I want to give others a chance to see me create this journey- alone. 

Many people have expressed that they are vicariously living through me, and envy my freedom to take on such an endeavor. One that the trappings of their life would never allow for- trappings- such an appropriate word- that I have somehow avoided or slithered from- intentionally or unintentionally- my whole life.  

My best friend and I have had countless talks about my life, my penchant to gravitate towards the strangest, most solitary and temporary paths- all connected by their ignition of passion inside me. She warned me that this journey is too big to get side railed by my usual pitfall. And I do agree with her, it’s too important to let the tugs of normalcy that many around me gracefully manage to navigate derail me- for they have always been pitfalls of disaster.

 At 37, I have almost completely accepted I’ll be alone for life- not because I am inadequate- but try as I might, it never wears well on me. I’m meant to be this odd creature- and when I embrace it I glow. When I, at moments of weakness seek simple solace in a coupled companionship, my dreams are neglected. And I wither. So, the cliff is an internal admission of solitude. An active end to pursuing any romantic encounters, even when thrust in my lap. 

But I’m human, you see? I have a longing for that life sometimes- no matter how impractical it is for one like me. I go after it, and often self-sabotage in the midst. Talking of bus plans, or how I’m not sure a long term commitment really fosters growth for both parties. If only dating were a silent endeavor. 

But alas, embrace myself I must. Jump off this cliff I must. Forsake that silly longing I must. For this journey calls- I can’t even articulate the long term outcome- but it’s time to just jump. Failing isn’t the worry. I’ve failed many times. I embrace those failures. I think I fear the success. That I can never go back from this step into bus life and pretend to lead anything even resembling what others can relate to as a life. What’s so bad about that anyway? Nothing I suppose. There’s really no blueprint for my journey. No boundaries to my destinations.

No guidance to my way-points. And yes, the journey awaits-