I have caught the travel bug. Badly. It has always been looming, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, and this week it finally gave in. I am itching to go. Every minute that I sit still, doing the same things I do every day, is a rebellion against my soul that is wandering around my memories of Europe. I'm longing for a trip away from the U.S. but I know this won't be possible for awhile, so I am content with anywhere new. At this point, I could even stay in Cedar as long as I got to see and learn something new.
This is what has inspired my slight change in blog. The title, the quote, and the background. I am wanting so badly to travel but I read a quote that says,
"One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things." -Henry Miller. I really like this idea, mostly because I haven't the funds to travel very far, and it consoles my soul because it knows that really all my mind is looking for is something to rattle me. I need something to challenge my way of thinking, to change my perspective, to teach me something new.
For this reason, I have decided to use whatever energy I can muster throughout the day to find something new and interesting. Whether it be an article in the newspaper, something a stranger says in passing, or an intriguing space on campus that deserves further exploration, I need to record it and prove to my mind that I am experiencing newness- just not overwhelming doses like I would like.
I have also decided to include some poetry in this post. I haven't used poetry in my blog yet, which is odd because it is what I write most, so I'll try it out on my few but wonderful readers :) Keep in mind, I wrote these poems a year ago and they are about my trip to Europe in 2007 with my family (I just realized that that was almost 5 years ago... insane) It was probably the BEST experience of my life and wish that I have been able to do more traveling since then. Well, without further ado, a few poems...
Lake Mead, Nevada, U.S.
Pebble in hand, poised, ready for the throw,
my arm launches the stone,
ripples erupt on the calm face of the lake.
Staring out at the sky in the water,
I think of all the places I’ve never been.
Thoughts of Italy, France and Switzerland
flow through my mind in images,
other people’s images- other people’s memories,
really only colors and shapes to me.
Nonetheless, the restless spirit handed down to me
from generations of habitual travelers,
finds me there by the water in a spiraled form
so familiar and yet so surprising.
This shell is coarse, silently beautiful
waiting to be discovered and carried away.
I feel this shell is an unseen part of me.
I, too, am waiting for a loving soul to take me in,
to find fulfillment in my monotonous life.
Neither of us wants to wear away, joining forever
the countless grains of sand,
to never bring beauty to the world again.
This is the final moment.
The moment I decide the world is bigger
than this one tiny beach
and I am going to see it all.
Grindelwald, Svizzera
All around, the green grass waves gently to us,
it beckons us onward to stunning destinations.
The narrow, worn dirt path is rutted from wagon wheels,
tufts of dirt fly as our hiking boots tread on the ancient road.
The hills are alive with the sound of music,
we sing at the top of our lungs.
The locals look at us with rolling eyes and smiles.
In the middle of a field, or someone’s yard,
I find a dandelion as big as my fist.
I don’t want to destroy such a beauty
but I assume the more seeds, the more wishes come true.
My eyes close slowly, shutting out the world.
I am the tidal wave of grass, coming to shore.
I am the shady brook, flowing towards my home.
I am the dandelion, fragile but craving the wind.
My wish rises in my heart, travels through my body
and into my mind,
it sits like a flower waiting to take wing.
A deep breath, a whoosh of air, and opening eyes
reveals a myriad of soaring seeded parachutes.
At the same moment, my winged flower is freed
and my wish shoots into the air,
hoping to land and take root in another’s heart.
Casalgallo, Italia
The sun’s spry fingers curl around
the window ledge reaching to find
my sleeping eyes on a feather pillow.
I savor the caresses of sunlight on my cheek
and breathe in the intoxicating aroma
of tilled earth and cut grass.
A Tuscan breeze whispers through the gap,
Buon giorno principessa,
as the sun winks at me over the horizon
feeding the hungry grape vines
and lighting up this ethereal world.
The vineyard beckons to me.
Surrendering, my feet guide me
out the door, into the sun.
Toulouse, France
It was there, in a field of sunflowers,
that I found her.
The search had gone on for years
I’d explored mountains, oceans, thriving cities
and dead ones.
Through the chaparral of my home
to the immense forests of the East.
From the glacial lakes of the North
to the sand blown shanties of the South.
Searching, unfruitful, for myself
so that I could continue my journey
with her as a witness and a guide.
It wasn’t until I flew with tired wings
across the churning ocean,
that my eyes were opened to a new world.
On the road between Toulouse and Imperia
a field of sunshine appeared before me,
enveloping my vision, my senses, my mind.
Walking under the majestic beings
I felt myself being taken away
to find what I’d been searching for.
I looked at the sky from the sunflower’s view,
my toes buried under the soft, dark earth,
the air, clean and fresh, circulating through my body.
I became the sunflower,
looking toward the sun, never blinking,
welcoming in the warmth.
Upon returning, I smiled, looking through new eyes,
realizing, at last, I was no longer alone,
knowing the sunflowers had brought me home.
It was there, in a field of sunflowers,
that I found her.
Thanks! Have a great day!! :D
