I wonder what it would feel like to have the sun kiss my skin on an almost daily basis; to recover the freckles that speckled my shoulders and cheeks as a child. It's been years now since I did anything but dare to just survive really; to keep my head above water. To function in the world. I'm ready for change I've told you and I'm not lying. Big changes only someone from another plane of existence like you could imagine. A reality greater than anything my mind has conjured up for years now.
At one point in my life, I was more talented at turning fear into faith, at risking it all, whatever that all might have been, for something new. Today I find myself wishing all the memories of days spent walking miles to do any little errand were closer to front of my mind's eye. Afternoons spent sitting at a computer typing the stories of my days for people far away to read while waiting for the rain to stop and the clouds to clear before my trek back home. I miss the unfamiliarity and the excitement of being surrounded by people from all corners of the globe who speak language I've sometimes never heard in person.
If I try very hard I can remember the queasy feeling in my stomach after having ridden in a small car on cobblestone streets with too many people who didn't speak English. I can remember trying to explain to a pharmacist in a language that was unfamiliar to me, what ailed. I remember one early morning in a small fishing village by the sea, just before sunrise, two guns being pointed in my direction, my large blue hiking backpacked being yanked here and there until I were rescued by onlookers. I remember hitching a ride down the coast in the back of a stranger's rusty pickup truck, the sharp green bushes I'd never seen before a blur along the sides of the road behind me. I can recall sitting by the window of some large bus, legs cramped before me, a song about wide open spaces in my headphones and deep cliffs off the side of the road beside me. I can remember riding a too thin horse in the Andes mountains for so long I could hardly walk for day and the bowl of beans and rice I had for dinner; still one of the best meals of my life. I remember the kindness of strangers, the soiled faces of children who begged for a living, and llamas everywhere I looked. I remember in a different country than this, sitting on the ground in a village full of women learning about the carpets they wove and watching them put any money they earned on a altar for a day before spending and in another place, baking bread in an outdoor oven with the men of the village. I remember encountering several times a day, humility deeper than I have rarely encountered in this country, men pinching my butt on the streetcar and salsa dancing in a secret basement pub in some distant city's downtown. I remember swimming in the warm Oaxacan ocean with my mother after days of not being able to sleep for fear of the scorpions that danced on the ceiling above my little cot each night. I remember climbing to el cielo to sleep under the starts in a hammock on top of a hill and eating giant slabs of sweet white pineapple for breakfast. I remember washing my laundry by hand on a rooftop and being amazed each and every time at the sun's ability to bleach out any stain or spill. The smell of lemon and lime floor cleaner fills my nose momentarily and the I can feel the heavy pulp of fresh squeezed papaya juice and crusty bread for only a second on my tongue. I can remember these colors and flavors and sounds in flashes here and there, but over time even these things have begun to fade. Perhaps it's time for me to stop remembering and start experiencing new versions of these things.
Take me to a new place where bougainvillea grows like ivy on cracked pastel colored walls. Find for me a courtyard where I can sit for a few moments away from the business of the world in afternoon shade and listen to the sound of water gurgling. Find a room with light where I can place in a small corner a wooden table older than me on which to write about the many things I've found to newly inspire me. Take me to a place where the people haven't gotten so out of touch; where what one has is not at all important compared with who one is and how they love. Take me to a place where Grace is the modus operandi and all else falls to the wayside in comparison. Help me simplify my world and recapture that courageous girl who has in her past ridden alone on many trains and buses through mountains and over valleys in continents where nobody new here name. Help me rediscover the joys of living without the pressures and stress of spending the majority of one's days doing something they feel no passion for. What will I do there to fill my days, to make a living? I don't know. But I do know when the heart is truly happy and full, opportunity has a way of presenting itself. When I am scared about all the leaping these changes will cause in my daily existence, remind me of the beauty that is found in the unknown. Of the courage and freedom that comes with throwing caution to the wind and choosing to really live instead of just survive.
That old fairy tale about a girl's life just doesn't seem to ever match up with my own no matter how hard I try. Perhaps it's time I gave up completely on chasing that white picket fence and started looking beyond my own front yard. Take my hand as I step up to the edge of this reality and peer out into the unknown. Watch me as jump and relearn how to fly, to live in wonder for more than these here few solitary moments at a time. Witness me be engulfed by the world and fall back into it's love
