Giving In
It is time to start writing again. For something that moves me so passionately, something that I feel with such force down in the depths of my very bones, I avoid it too often. I've been plagued with the fear of failure, the fear of not being able to achieve with my words the beauty and the meaning that I want. And I don't know where that came from. I used to write because I couldn't not write. I used to write because I was too full of fire and angst and feeling and now it's not that that fire or feeling has left, it is still within me. I still feel it every day, that urge to release, to express, to write. Just somehow along the way, I lost touch with my roots and my most essential instincts and desires. Sometimes we get lost in our lives, lost in the motions of our day to day existence, and we forget to give time to the most precious parts of ourselves. Instead we ignore those soul-urges and tell ourselves we haven't time for them. And when it's gone on long enough, we forget the magic that happens when we give in, until we are scared of the feelings and we underestimate our ability to actually feed those urges..
The world is a great and beautiful place and I want to wander, I want to taste the fruits that other lands bear, I want to smell the dirt of new places and breathe it in, becoming something singular with the land and the people. I shot in Joshua Tree National Park the other day and it felt so good, so right, to be out there in the vastness of the desert once more. Every time I return to that place, my heart is full again. I was borne of the dry, hot earth, and molded by the very same winds that for hundreds of thousands of years have shaped the landscape into a place of other-worldliness. I can't help but feel how strongly that place has informed my very being. When we departed, the sun had left us, and the coolness of night settled in, prickling our still-warm skin. My lips were dry and my skin covered in the sweat and dust of the day. I tasted my arm, my lips, and my tongue stung with the shock of salt, a tiny lightning bolt electrifying my taste buds and teasing the corners of my mouth into a smile. The journey home was long and we were all wonderfully exhausted. I stayed in my head and searched the stars for visions of my thoughts and signs of life somewhere far away.
I ache to move once more. I am ready for adventure.
The world is a great and beautiful place and I want to wander, I want to taste the fruits that other lands bear, I want to smell the dirt of new places and breathe it in, becoming something singular with the land and the people. I shot in Joshua Tree National Park the other day and it felt so good, so right, to be out there in the vastness of the desert once more. Every time I return to that place, my heart is full again. I was borne of the dry, hot earth, and molded by the very same winds that for hundreds of thousands of years have shaped the landscape into a place of other-worldliness. I can't help but feel how strongly that place has informed my very being. When we departed, the sun had left us, and the coolness of night settled in, prickling our still-warm skin. My lips were dry and my skin covered in the sweat and dust of the day. I tasted my arm, my lips, and my tongue stung with the shock of salt, a tiny lightning bolt electrifying my taste buds and teasing the corners of my mouth into a smile. The journey home was long and we were all wonderfully exhausted. I stayed in my head and searched the stars for visions of my thoughts and signs of life somewhere far away.
I ache to move once more. I am ready for adventure.