My
heart longs for something that feels always fleeting: a feeling of “belonging”
with others that can really only come from family and culture. I see it here everywhere. The people know who they are, they know where
they come from, they have a connection to their roots, to their community, to
their families. They have roots that go back hundreds of generations that they
are still in touch with every day. Most
of us in the good ol USA, simply don’t have that. Many of us don’t even know where our
grandparents came from, how they got here and what their roots were. Often our grandparents don’t even know, the
chords were cut and little was revealed.
Add
to that my path as a visionary and a lover of adventure and travel as a global
citizen, and it’s as if somehow my path, as beautiful and noble as it is in
many ways, also isolates me from the very thing that I seek. My journey of exploring culture and community
takes me away from mine. My desire to
experience the cultures of the world and to witness how they work somehow keeps
me just on the outside of full belonging to any one particular and the one I
was born into and raised by is not resonant with my soul, heart or mind really
in any way.
I
am a loner in this world: a self proclaimed,
fully discovered lost, yet totally found, soul.
Enlightened in many ways, and fully connected, yet longing for something
that “normal” people in the most poor of places seem to have that I can’t quite
touch or grasp. Something that I know I
will never have, that is not mine to have and that I can only witness, borrow
and admire in others.
Somehow,
being a woman, single, solo and carrying the torch that I do, with the passion
for experience, knowledge and wisdom that I have, I have become a citizen of a
different kind of community. I am
participating in the community of the entire world. I wander, I watch, I listen, I am like a
ninja warrior priestess in the city of the world on a lifetime quest for
understanding humanity as a participant of many cultures. I am, indeed, a global citizen. I have home, friends, community and love
everywhere, and yet at the end of the day, still I am alone.
My
instincts are sharp, and I know how to take care of myself and others. I can literally go anywhere in the world and
feel like I can survive, thrive and find my way. I’ve been described as brave, courageous and
fearless and I know it’s all true. I
don’t have a lot of inhibitions. I say
and do as I please, when I want and I’m grateful that I was blessed enough to
be born into a culture that does grant me, if nothing else, the freedom to
create myself and my life as I please.
Even in my lonlieness, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Yet,
in quiet moments, like now, sitting by the Malacon at sunset listening to the
surf and watching the day come to a close, the tender soft place in me, as a
woman, wants nothing more than the sanctuary of one good man to lean on and to
take my hand. A man who can let me
collapse into him when I am sad, tired or just fed up with the whole crazy
illusion we call life. A man who can
feel what my heart feels right now, and show up to pick me up, dry my tears,
hold me and know exactly how to nourish me back to my source, quietly and with
great strength and softness. A man who can stand up to my fire, but melt me
with his tenderness.
I’m
beginning to think he’ll never show up and that the reality of what I must accept in
this life is that indeed, I am here on a solo journey to touch the hearts and
lives of many, but to walk always as one woman with a mission to find ways to
offer to the world that which she doesn’t have in her own life.
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