I absolutely love this picture of me and A - except for the fact that it makes me think about how I'm not really living the life I think I wanna live. I'm not talking about a ridiculous fantasy life, I ... well, maybe I am. I see pictures like these... outside (mountains or beach) and I look happy and relaxed and it makes me wonder why (WHY!!!) I live in a city like Dallas. People don't live here, they work here. And it's certainly not relaxed. Or bright. Or full of spunky, funky, laid-back energy (that is NOT a contradictory statement).
I want to be in California or Mexico or Belize. I want to walk around barefoot. I want to be outdoors. I want to walk/bike/run/ride the bus to the store, the beach, the mountains, the coffee shop.
I long for a kind of simplicity that in my younger days I found boring and catastrophic. I always fancied myself an artsy urbanite, a slick city-girl, a Manhattan hipster- but I find that I am happiest near bodies of water. I am happiest surrounded by trees.
I know this. I've known it for a while. What is it that holds me back, I wonder? If I think hard enough, dig deep enough, I'm pretty sure I could find the answer.
I wish I had the courage to risk being truly happy.
Belize? What happened to Tahiti?
ReplyDeleteWere we programed with a live in the wrong place gene? I long to live in Mexico again. And I can't figure out the city/country conundrum.
I think we inherited a sever case of wanderlust. I have a feeling that no matter where I am, i'd want to be somewhere else. Which tells me the work that needs to be done is an inside job. If I could just figure out how to bottle the way I feel when I'm in Mexico (rooted, grounded, serene, insanely sane, creative, joyful...) I could live anywhere.
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