now.

i wander along the paths that i travel. it’s here i find little pieces of purpose, in the proximity to things that truly affect my swelling heart.

it’s me.

it’s me with a voice and a reason for living. living a life [a life i choose] without noise or distraction or any doubt arising around this me that yearns for, craves and seeks out adventure and lostness.

just as my lungs need air and my dreams need wings.

and as i wander i wonder about the roads i’m yet to travel. they make me anxious they make me nervous. then i stop for a minute and remember there’s only this moment. there’s only now.

so if that’s all i have,
that’s all i’ll live.

ok.

maybe it’s in the name. that craziness, that driving me insane.
[it happened once before.]
i’ll wonder
for days
of where,
and when,
will i ever see you
again?

q&a

a night sky littered with stars, more white than black. with gentleness, it pulls its way across the sky.

‘i love you to the moon 
and back.’ 

and we’re made of stardust, you and i. 
and we’re made of dreams too - you’ll see. 
because this isn’t about the you and the me, this is about the us, 
the we. 

even if it’s gone, 
you know, 
i know, 
it lives on 
in memories so vivid so strong.
and i wonder where you are, 
or if you look at these same stars 
and if you think about me, 
like i 
think 
about 
you:

with a feeling and a name 
and thoughts of day, night, mid-morning, 
all the same. 

you left me with a kiss, 
as we giggled, 
and it was this 
that made it all the everything 
that may be all it is.

so if we’re made of stardust [and we’re made of nothing]
[and between us lives that nothing] and 
we stare 
at stars 
made of the same things 
that we are
then we’ll be travelling side-by-side in this crazy, beautiful life,
we’ll be travelling, oh watch us fly! i’m free, you’re free. 

love, 
is why.

"It’s exciting when you find parts of yourself in someone else."

coastline charlie

i’ma livin’ legend dall, and i ain’t afraid t tell ya, he said with vigour and pride through long teeth behind thin lips under a white moustache, in a permanent smile, none of which moved as he spoke. he reclined back into a bench that overlooked new jersey’s barnegat bay, shrouded in grey, folded his arms across his big, round belly and stretched out his legs. ya knaw, i reinvenned maself faw times. ya can’t be afraid to do that in yaw life.

he told me all the ways he’s changed.

i nodded my head in absolute agreement, knowing how much i’ve changed and do change, time and time and time again.

so traavellin huh… what’re ya searchin to find? he was really opening it all up now.

he stood, pushed himself up, his hands on his knees, and moved slowly, determinedly, towards the water. he bent over and pulled on a yellow rope and drew up a crab trap. nothing but ribs [yes ribs] for bait occupied the space, he laughed.jahnny didn have any chicken faw us tday. he lifted the cage to my face then threw it back into barnegat bay.

today i met this man, coastline charlie, with his wispy, grey hair, specs that made his eyes goggle and a jersey accent that’ll last for years in my memory.

"You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will realize that nowhere seems like home anymore."

Shinji Moon (via wordsthat-speak)

Spot on today.

(via salvacorpusamanti)

"Clocks keep the same cadence
and nights have the same stars."

Federico Garcia Lorca, Madrigal (via poemusicoffee)

(Source: metaphorformetaphor, via salvacorpusamanti)

'a good traveller has no set plans and is not intent on arriving' lao tzu

i never really got it.

i’m on a train from montreal to new york city. we’re travelling through the adirondacks. and i’m kicking myself because all i want to do is write, but i look out the window instead and want to look out the window but write instead. it’s an unnervingly beautiful paradox i find myself caught within. the train sounds. 

graaaaaap. graaap graaap graaaaaaaaaaap.

i don’t want to get off this train. i don’t want to arrive. i am happy and comfortable and still, for now. i know the next few weeks won’t stop. i know i’ll be all tied up in the bustle and the busy days and the getting from here to there.

but how exciting that will be! nights of four-hour sleep, stiff muscles from cramped spaces, new city smells and faces, the change in the air, in the everywhere. 

and i’m not headed for anywhere, just riding minute by minute today and here and now on this train with the shaking and the moving and the graap graap graaping and the sweet simple thoughts of one day in montreal and kissing a boy, just a stranger just before.

i’m not wishing this to end, i’ll happily stay aboard until it stops. and every second i fall more in love with each second floating by and it comes in one big perfect wave of everything that starts from one small blood-red drop in the oceans of our hearts.

tobermory

i fell asleep to the sounds of gusty wind and sam reciting australian poetry from memory. i fell asleep in blissful exhaustion. with the smell of the campfire and the sickly, satisfying sweetness of burnt-to-a-crisp marshmallows in my belly. i fell asleep thinking of home but dreamt of nothing i can remember. i fell asleep last night, in a tent, alone, in the canadian countryside, so lost in heart and mind.

i woke to a sunday morning clouded in glaring grey. i woke to green tea delivered right to my tent. i woke with warm breakfast. i woke with the squirrels and the birds, new friends and one very old.

i slept and i woke, like any ordinary day, but this one, well this one seems a little different.

off i go, the morning is slowly slipping away, the grey remains. but i’m a little less tired and a little more found in all the smells and sounds of this canadian campground.

"I am a part of all that I have met."

 Alfred Tennyson, excerpt from “Ulysses” (via thequotesymposium)

"Tell me all your secrets, I’ll pour you wine
And if it gets late enough, I’ll tell you mine."

Joe Purdy (via thequotesymposium)

lost at lost lake

[photo: lost lake, oregon]

i dive into the lake. a snow-capped mount hood stands majestically, she doesn’t even notice me here. underwater now, i’m taken by surprise as i open my mouth and taste clean, bland, fresh water. you’re not by the ocean anymore! it shouts all over my tastebuds. it’s cold and goosebumps send chills through my blood, beating warm just minutes before. 

this doesn’t look real, i tell her later, it’s as if i’m dead and dreaming. it’s as if this all rose up from my imagination, creating a scene from scenes unseen and seen before. but, really, it’s incredible.

i’ve never known anything like it. and everyday challenges that, and everyday i say the same. everyday i feel the difference. i wonder if that would ever end. 

we leave and take the old, snaking road back to the valley. i sit in the doorframe of the car as it winds through tall trees, so dense, that smell like the earth, open air and christmas. the wind hits me hard in my smiling face and dries my gums. i laugh and breathe so deeply. oh, this is living. yep, this is living well.

is that so much to ask?

and all these things i’m coming up on, all the streets i’ve yet to walk and people i’ve yet to meet, oh all those streets and people may be the most significant and important of my time away so far. and i’ll think about them in the future as if they’ll be here tomorrow and i’ll find a place in a place in a dream in a place, and i’ll make my own way and you’ll never know what you did to me or how i hated or loved you for it and how i pushed through agony [that really never was] and found ecstasy [which i always only had] and the effervescence of the dreams i try to hold so tight become me just clutching clutching clutching at thin air until i feel what i think is the place that holds the secrets to the world inside my heart, and i see it for a second in my hands. and then i let it fly when i realise that the pull between the agony and the ecstasy exists only in my mind and everything else will come and go as moments of insignificant clatter that make me only think it’s the way i only think it is.

bring me along, unattached. forever on the fence between green and greener. life is too mysterious for me to be tethered to your plans [mind, it’s you i fear]. let spontaneity and flights of fanciness tickle me and set my heart on fire, set it loose to float with clouds and fly with bluebirds. that’s all i really want to do, live my life so dreamily aware of all that’s wonderful and lovely.

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