wanderlust

September 1, 2011 § Leave a comment

on the morning of my birth, i was reclined on a couch in my friends living room, a house in north of panhandle one of the most gorgeous neighborhoods in the city of saint francis. i had just ran to a corner cafe recommended by yelp, wolfed down a lox bagel, lamenting my decision to not get coffee, hair wet from the shower. listening to rachel yamagata on my crackberry. journaling

What else can I say? Jesus you are beautiful. I don’t know what else to say really. I’m just really thankful to be surrounded by beauty. I realize I’ve been on this track for years now. Once my eyes my heart my taste to this life have opened sometime in high school. I came hungry after all kinds of life. O life. That’s what this comes down to: french cafes the times Sunday arts sections vintage clothes swap garage sale foggy morning heels clicking on streets where old men smoke cigarettes out their doors liquor stores and ATMs in a quite neighborhood church music right next building.

right now, as im reclining on my bed in a house nestled between berkeley campus and boogie rockridge and hipster temescal. listening to josh garrels, hair chopped off. blogging. i remember an old feeling. the only time ive felt that feeling clearly communicated is that morning, when i realize how much of my life has been devoted to that pursuit of beauty. im running after beauty. all kinds, in colors and in sounds in tastes and in touch. in clicking of the tongue in listing words that i like in driving the roads laid out plainly in agreeing with enthusiastic friends no matter they say. ive been looking all over for it. and my heart doesnt forget easily

cant say im a world traveler yet. there are so many more grounds i have yet to tread. yet to tread. yet to tread

but i have tread on cobblestones an ocean away, and ive seen the sun rise over the ruins of man-made temples for gods long gone. now ive sipped on oyster water and lived through a hurricane that bullies and shuts down a city that never sleeps. i have come back. yes its a beautiful city; i dont want to regret my choice to remain here to make a home for myself. what is commitment to community without sacrifice right? and to call a city your home, to have a place to go back to after a journey however long, to put down that permanent address on your bank check, i embarrass myself to count that cost

yet

yet i grieved a little on the midnight bus. eyes shut and oblivious to the noises and lights surrounding me, i fell into deep sleep. and i grieved

thought of that train ride from hohenfels germany to paris france. did i mention i cried the whole trip? that was only two yrs ago. only two yrs ago. inevitably i distract my brain to think of something else because i cant think about that summer. i just cant

wks spent home in la after the trip to southeast asia are marked on the journal pages with sweat and questions, whats life worth? i cant keep telling myself im a quitter all the time. i cant beat up myself for not being good at sticking out long past due i have nothing to give all the time. i dont know when do we move on?

i am not sure where i am today. so hard to locate myself. i didnt go very far this time. i wasnt gone for that long this time. i used to believe that i move slower than time; my mind and heart are somewhere along the road and take another day or two to catch up with the rest of me. and during those days when my body is present but not fully, i walk around like a zombie without head without heart.

after an emotional morning session with Jesus today, i wrote down:

so i have this gypsy traveling heart. and its like the sojourner thing. we are not of this world. im not of this world. i will never be appy living here because its not my home. and im always always homesick, longing for the next world thats real and meant to be. God, and in a strange paradozical way this draws me so trongly to the world. it maeks me burn to see everythign there is to see meet as many new people as i can go to palces as far as my eyes can see. im not tied to wealth or house or people. i move whenever you call me to be for the season you appoint me, and then im gone. i think this makes sense. i think it makes sense that i feel this way.

i know. its a privilege to be able to wander. and its a privilege to have to not wander. either way i will find a way for my heart to be alive and full. i cant help it though. im a creature of the nomadic life. a trigger — foreign tongues, accordion, whiff of sea breeze, tv commercials showing horses galloping and gas lamps and camels crossing the sahara — and im gone

so. the incessant voices dragging me out of shut windows and closed walls need to calm down, at least for now. i cant keep lusting. i cant. i gotta figure out how to live with both my head and soul in the same time zone and without regrets

im going to come back to this

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