If you can't read the stars, you'd better have a map,
a compass and a conscience so you don't get lost at sea
around some lonely island no one wants to be.
From the beginning of creation, I think our Maker had a plan
for us to leave these shores and sail beyond the sand.
a compass and a conscience so you don't get lost at sea
around some lonely island no one wants to be.
From the beginning of creation, I think our Maker had a plan
for us to leave these shores and sail beyond the sand.
A friend of mine played this song for me this morning, and it spoke to my soul in a way that I didn't know I needed. I've been feeling that "stuck in a moment" feeling lately that has me vacillating between the life extremes of safety and adventure and desperately afraid that my form of compromise will be one of monotony. (I fear little in life more than monotony.)
This is not a new struggle. In fact, it's been part of me for as long as I can remember. Something deep within me is compelled to explore and experience and cram my mind with as many memories as possible. I've suppressed it well for most of my life, but when the soul calls and aches, you can ignore it for only so long.
It's aching right now. That's wanderlust--an ache in the distance. For me, this means I could easily sell my property and possessions and hop in a Jeep to explore the Badlands or cruise the Pan American highway. It means I might very well leave behind all I know to live abroad.
I'm starting to think that I'm not meant to be settled. I'd like to say that I don't know what this means, but I have an idea. It scares me to think of the possibility. I've grown accustomed to the "safe" life I have right now (even though I am well aware that it's a lot less safe than I like to think it is). Yet, I've been asked twice in the last week the same question that strikes to the heart of the matter.
So when are you going to start writing?
Between this question and this morning's song, I have no choice. It's time to jump...to be vulnerable to myself...to be authentic to my being.
I'm writing again.
Comments
I understand that feeling. That wanderlust. That ache that pulls you away from where you are and calls you out into something - you just don't always know where it is you're being called.
I get it.
I can't wait to see what you do with it.