Monday, April 23, 2012

a strange gift

i've been realizing the past few months i am more at home on the road than in my own home. i have a lovely apartment, perfect for me but lately it has lost its joy. it feels like it is holding me back from being myself now. i have a small income and my home uses every penny. if travel didn't matter to me then i could be happy here. i could try to content myself with two small weeks of vacation every year and spend all year living for that time when i feel truly alive.

don't get me wrong, i have a wonderful life, one that would make many people envious. lots of time to dream and think, to write and to read. an amazing grown up family with children and grandchildren to love, a perfect location where i can walk into town. or drive anywhere i need to go in minutes. a charming apartment that is a steal at the price. lovely friends and neighbors and a vibrant community. there is nothing wrong, nothing i want to escape. i could get a real job, a career and earn lots of money and then hope to travel more. but then i would give up the time i need to think, to dream, to write and i would hate it.

i struggled with all this for awhile. not all my children are pleased with a mama who yearns to be on the road. some find it easier to understand than others, some would prefer my dreams to be to be a mama and a grandma who lives next door. but my children are grown now. their  opinions matter deeply to me, as does their happiness.

but when you know who you are and what your purpose is, then it becomes harder and harder to turn your back on it. it grabs you in your dreams and shakes the hell out of you. it says what are you doing? and you know, really know that you will regret it forever if you ignore your own small voice. the voice that says clearly and quietly, this is who you are and what you are meant to do. lots of well meaning, kind and thoughtful people have pointed out all the pitfalls, dangers and losses this choice entails.

it would be foolish of me not to listen, to ignore the realities of such a life. but it would be even more foolish of me to ignore my own needs and dreams. I need to see the world, not want, need. i feel a constant screaming craving to experience more of the world. to sit down with strangers and hear what makes them happy, or sad or confused. I have traveled enough to see the way it makes me slow down and just feel joy at being alive. i felt more alive on a grubby bus than i do in my own home. tired, hungry and far from any luxury i felt pure bliss. talking to young mothers on welfare, young men just released from prison, and grandparents struggling on minuscule social security payments i felt like i was where i was supposed to be, doing what i was meant to do.

it is a strange gift to hear heartbreaking stories, to witness tender moments from those whose lives would make you cry, and yet to feel hopeful. to see the strength of the human soul and to want to share it with others in your writing. this isn't the kind of writing you can do from a comfy chair, it is the kind of writing where you need to get down in the trenches with them, beside them to understand. their stories need to be told, and i feel like i am here to tell them.

2 comments:

  1. Kelly at last! I have managed to log in and follow and comment! Hurray. So read all the above and found it moving and interesting and now I can read more of what you write. Good luck next week with The Next Big Thing...I look forward to reading your blog then and again. xx

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    1. thanks for taking the time to find me and read my blog, jane. i am sure it will inspire me to post more of my writing.

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