travel

it’s hard to write when you’re always moving. when you take a night bus to the city & accidentally arrive at 5am - too early for life - so you sleep at a hotel that’s only a soft step up from that dingy spot where you lost your virginity at 3am somewhere in Leon those years ago. & you pay by the hour to sleep until it’s light enough outside to head to a cafe so you can work. because it's monday of course.

& this life is not for everyone, hell it’s not even for me sometimes. but then you finish an extra hard day of work to go bike to the world's widest tree and you grow silent and humble for standing beneath the oldest living thing you have ever been in the presence of.

& imagine the change this wise tree has witnessed in over 2000 years of life. never moving, never leaving, just firmly planted in the ground watching everything around him grow up, grow out, and grow apart. observing it all. no control, no opinión, no reaction, just a quiet witnessing. i wonder what he thinks of us.

so even in the midst of trying to prove yourself, trying to prove your worth, your talent, your dedication to responsibility, and having it all together by doing doing doing, i come back to the tree. just observing. leading by his dedication to the ground. loving us all from his higher perspective and ode to simply being.

and these perspective shifts are the reason i continue on this way.