Grounded

We speak of "grounded" as if it's next to godliness.  But I've always been grounded. I'm so grounded I'm half buried in dirt.  Sometimes I yearn for some head in the clouds--some dreaminess. Some floating.  Ground is stable,  which has many benefits,  but is also boring.  It grinds the imagination down.

It's days like these that make me wonder: Did I live my most interesting life when I was young?  While I'm extremely proud of what we've built here, and what we're still building here,  I still get a hint of wanderlust from time to time.  Just a whiff. A craving for adventure,  for intrigue,  for stories to tell. Being consistently content is great,  but boring.

It's these moments when you're no longer a tourist in your backyard.  When everything becomes "normal" and you forget to notice the astounding beauty around you.  You know you're supposed to,  but you're like that person trying to catch the autumn leaves at just the right time-- you're just waiting for something to happen that's out of your control, and then you'll jump into action. 

What is in my control is the opening of my eyes.  Or closing and re-opening them to notice the wonders all around me.  To follow my curiosity.  To create stories right in the here and now.  And occasionally,  to stick my head in the clouds and dream. ​

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