Feet Go Forward
Sometimes, I am unhappy with myself. I worry. I don't like the decisions that I make and I feel a bit awash in a sea of mistakes. I feel guilt about my past and secrets that have never reared their monstrous, horned heads. I know I have a selfish side and wish I could be more giving and less narcissistic. I wish I had more success with my art. I wish I had a family of my own. I wish I had a steady job. I wish I had more wishes. I wish. I wish.
But in the same turn, the dark clouds part and the heart slows a little. I realize who I am and the changes I've wrestled through in two short years. The sun comes and reminds us that we are so small and so in need of each other.
Vagabond-ery can bring anxiety at times, because there are usually no clear turns on the outstretched highway. You roll through the foggy patches and you slow down the engine. But when the veil lifts and the ribbon of the road unwinds before your eyes, it's a pretty damned good life.
And the feet go forward.
