truth

imagine for a second that she's laying

A Foundation

she's smoothing with her hands

like a sheet to cover a bare bed

or bare bones

On the move to Portland

At this point I've accepted my restlessness, my gypsy tendencies and the habit I have of remaining in movement- even if that movement is an eddy, slowly swirling and small. Have you ever come across something lovely and immediately known it would make you leave everything that you had grown comfortable with? Have you had the sinking feeling that you would have to leap for it, like leaping for a moving train? And that by leaping you would give the rest away?

I hate the between-ness of knowing one place and knowing another. I hate shouldering the stress of finding something temporary until I can replace it with something permanent, wondering whether I can make it to the first paycheck without falling back on someone that I never intended to burden. I hate that I'm still insecure enough that I feel I have to impress people, that I'm being put to the test and that failure is somehow a possibility.

But I live to explore and to learn and to conquer and I have never before felt so at home somewhere so quickly. I will thrive here, and if there's any evidence of that it's the fact that here is the bud of a blog that I have threatened for a long time to write. A tiny victory in a great adventure. Have you found yours?