Wanderlust

I didn’t set specific resolutions this year. There are already elements of my life that I am in the process of making new; adding a list of things to my already changing universe seems kind of pointless. I am already in the middle of a transformation.

Seasons change, and I now have a good part of my life moved out of the old season. Physically, it's all packed up in boxes, emotionally, it comes in waves. I know that this season is one of strength. Growth, but strength. My goal for this year and also just the goal for my future, is to write. Write about what I love, write about the person I am and the person I was, write about where I've been and where I'm going.

This new season more than any other has given me a craving to explore. I want to pack my bag and my boots and disappear to Ireland for a week, collecting stories and sweaters. I want to jump across the country, and say hello to some people. I want to decorate myself with henna for an Indian wedding, and I want to drink wine and look at the stars from a vineyard in Italy. I don't know when I turned into an Elizabeth Gilbert wannabe... All I know is that somewhere inside both of us is the same material, that craving to travel.

Then again, perhaps the reason I have the urge to go is because I can finally stay. I live in New York City, I pay rent and utilities and internet; I have a job and I have insurance, I have friends, and I consciously make the decision to eat more vegetables because I know that I will feel better when I do.

Give me uncertainty and emotional turmoil, and I will shut down. Give me security and peace and a place that I love, and my soul will soar, begging my body to follow.