Wanderlust

Runyan Canyon is a park above Sunset at the foot of the hills that separate the Valley from Los Angeles. I go here often to run, hike, do outdoor yoga and the like. My favorite portion of my routine lasts a mere 10 seconds as I run the decline back to my car. The road winds and winds and at the 4th or 5th bend, the city completely disappears behind the mountains. I relish in my fleeting escape; away from the constant gaze of the cityscape, I imagine I'm somewhere else. I like to think I'm running a tiny path that wraps around the Andes Mountains in Peru, or maybe a warm range in the arid mediterranean.

As much as I love my life here, I can't help ward off the familiar pangs of my wanderlust. To pick up and start over. To allow my roots to unfurl into nothing but seedlings of a new adventure. The prospects are quite appealing.

All the places I could see, the people I could say hello to,

the love I could encounter,

the loss I could feel,

the time I could waste,

the things I could neglect and forget.

Even the bad things sound kind of good. There's something comforting in loosing myself and living without ties and responsibility. I think I sometimes have an aversion to responsibility. I also think you could find a few people who might confirm this.

Like anything else, this lifestyle would age quickly and I'd want the comfort and security of a rooted life once again. So, I'll try less dramatic prescriptions and smaller dosages than a move around the world. I think I'll take up Spanish lessons or plan a road trip. Those sound like more responsible choices

Still, getting lost somewhere does sound nice now and again. I doubt that feeling will ever find its way from me.

Staying Present

In this day and age, where information moves at a mile a minute; in an industry where you're expected to be 10 steps ahead of the pack; in a community that is wrought with reliving its past - I'm finding this self-issued decree of staying present immensely difficult to maintain. I find that every time I'm feel ready to move on, my past comes knocking on my door. Conversely, I'm forced to look into the future and assess my moves now in order to survive the day-to-day.

A wise friend of a (also wise) friend once said, "If you straddle one foot in the past and one in the future, you'll find yourself shitting on today." Not the most eloquent turn of phrase, but an effective one nonetheless. I've said something similar many times - with all of this focus on my past (and in many cases, the future), it feels impossible to enjoy what I have now.

As I strike a balance between the past and the future - hopefully landing me somewhere in the present - my battle is being waged on the surprise ambushes from these opposing camps. Where my heart is concerned, I find more exhaustion in "moving on" then acting accordingly for any given situation. Moving on means cutting a piece of me off. It means, ideally, not gaining access to this part of me again. But what happens in the event if and when I need that access; to assess, to react, to act accordingly? I end up spending more energy pruning all of these emotional tendons then I do allowing them to slowly wither away.

I start to feel stupid asking for advice on the same old things, but again, letting go doesn't always seem like the most prudent choice or decision. As much as I fear the build up on either end of the time spectrum, I fear more losing those pieces. Are the too mutually exclusive? Can't there be a balance for both within the other balance? It's a lot to consider sometimes and more than some people care to understand, but that is where my head rests. While I try to lie between the past and the future, I work even harder at understanding and respecting both, rather than cutting either off or preemptively.

Ah yes, the all-too-familiar state of headiness. It's been a while, but it's still there, just below my surface.

A new season.

I'm finding difficulty with my words.

Living in my worlds.

Left LA, the summer behind

I freed my mind.

The seasons change, this one feels fresh

something new to quest

Bound or apart, my mind might race

Peace I find in one embrace

I keep restarting this entry - I couldn't finish the stanzas. It's been an intense couple of weeks since being back. Fall has certainly arrived. I feel the new season in almost every aspect of my life. Having spent so much time away from LA, I've come back and seen my day-to-day life for what it is. I enjoy my routine. I enjoy my work; this freelancing, working for myself, having my own office with my best friend. Things are hard sometimes, but I manage. I support myself. I maintain great friendships. I have a home. I feel like I have a future.

These feelings are all fleeting. My life feels so incremental, each notch a different emotive state, it's incredible that I can write this entry through without changing my mind. For now though, I'm enjoying the change in season. I enjoyed the rain today - the first rain which always feels the city feeling clean.

I think I feel cleaner now. Not too sure why. Some clarity has come over the last month or so. Something of confidence or assurance in my life. I feel like I'm learning who I am at a faster pace now. Without the hurdles of adolesence or schoolwork, or becoming an adult or finding a job - I'm jumping with more agility. My feet seem to be landing square on the ground.

This day-to-day feels very different from when I left. The rain is washing away some of the dust and haze of the warmer months. I stood on the top of Runyan Canyon for the first time in a long while yesterday, the cooler air filling my lungs, looking at the reflection of the waning sun on the ocean miles away and I felt truly happy.

I'm sure some crisis will come along soon enough and I'll write multiple entries to this one to help cope. In the meantime, I think I'm learning the value of being present and enjoying the moment in my work, in my relationships, in my daily life. Maybe that is what feels different. I'm not calculating outcomes or exit strategies; instead, I'm finding the peace in the moment. In feeling and acknowledging and moving forward. Maybe that's it.