A Wandering Soul

I want to wander.

The way I used to.

I have done a lot of amazing things in my life.  I have watched a soccer game from the top of the Eiffel Tower, and stood below the Twin Towers long before that fateful September day.  I have explored Yosemite inside and out, walked across the Golden Gate Bridge,  and spent many afternoons wine tasting in Napa Valley.  I have driven over 120 miles an hour on the Autobahn.  I’ve seen whales and panda bears and sea otters up close.   I’ve stood below the leaning tower of Pisa, the statue of David, and ten feet away from the Mona Lisa.

I used to live an amazing life.

And then something changed.

Somewhere along the line the adventurous side of my soul got lost.  Perhaps it was the daily shuffle of adulthood and responsibility-work and family and all that necessary yet still wonderful stuff that keeps us firmly in touch with what is real.

Getting sick didn’t help, either.  There is a healing comfort that comes with the safe and predictable.   I needed easy.  Easy was good.  Easy served a purpose.

But now I’m sick of easy.  And boring.

I’m restless. I want to experience different places and people.  It doesn’t have to be exotic or rustic or the middle of nowhere.  It can be as simple as driving west and spending a day in the company of the Pacific Ocean, feeling its awesomeness and the sand between my toes.  Or maybe flying for five hours over part of the same ocean, to experience sea turtles and Hawaiian monk seals, surfing and sunshine, and swim with manta rays in the darkness of night, getting back in touch with the place where I was born, the place I called home during the formative years of my childhood.

I want to get back to the way I was, when I felt brave and filled my passport with stamps from the far reaches of the world.  When a twelve-hour flight didn’t faze me at all.  Of course I can only speak for me and what I want for myself.  It is up to each individual person, how they define their best, happiest and most amazing life.  Some people never leave the small town they live in.  They have never stepped foot on a plane, or have met a person with a different skin color, or a person from a different country.

That’s all well and good for those that choose it.

But I want to get reacquainted with that wandering soul I used to have.

Who I used to be.

The journey in getting to know her again begins today.

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