Friday, November 07, 2008

I am (not) the wanderer.

I can appreciate the wanderlust of my friends. They're the ones who are at some consistent state of unrest, never fully content to be in one place for very long before feeling in their bones that they must head elsewhere, to another city, state or country. They enter my life for a time and are gone again, rooting and uprooting as they see deem necessary.

I can appreciate that, as I moved around plenty in my youth. Personally? I've changed. For me, it is enough to visit new locales and roll around in some fascinating culture for a while ... feel the smell of it, taste the flavors of it, snap some shots with my mind and camera ... then returning to my bed and friends and, yes, even family. I've lived in my place for nearly a decade now, which is admittedly a little crazy to think about. I am behind that "bloom where you're planted" idea 100%. I'm comfortable doing that. I won't be here forever, but it is my version of home right now.

Some part of me does want to write in another country for a year or more, though, and that urge may just get the best of me. Give me Switzerland in the summer and Australia in the winter and I'd write until my hands fell off, I really would. I wonder how far off of a someday that is?

Poems sometimes find us, don't they? Last night, I was playing a song from Bonnie Prince Billy's excellent album master and everyone and found this piece inside (just one more reason to continue buying albums with old-fashioned CDs and liner notes!). It speaks to the beauty of being transient and, my my my, it really resounded. Especially that final stanza.

The Gypsy

(text by S.M. Maggioni)


Who my father was, what country I'm from,
In vain the people ask me.

The first never existed and my home...

The earth that gives me fruits and flowers.

Wherever destiny leads me,
I find a smile, I find a love.

Why should I worry about thoughts of the past
When the hours of the present are glad to my heart?

It's true that tomorrow could cast a turbid veil over

The serene breezes waiting for me.
But if today, my skies are all blue,

Why should I worry about things that may not happen?

I am a plant, never frozen or bare,
That defies even the harshest winter.
If a leaf falls here, another will grow in its place.
In every season I am full of flowers.

5 comments:

jess said...

this may be for someone else but i felt like it's me. a. i love the word wanderlust. two. i claim to be part gypsy and must be in my czech family tree.

i'm happy you're happy where you're at. i hope all is well.

i'm in coffee shop enjoying some local music that i think would bring a smile to your face if you were nearby.

Adriana said...

You are a great writer. I like reading your stuff. Whose picture is that? It is just awesome!

Ems said...

I feel right about the same...I believe there are other cities and places for me still in this life, but I like the idea of my plant growing some roots too.

Me said...

I wonder and I wander what it would be like to stay in one place. I long to be a home-body.

SJ said...

I don't tend to wander far due to cash flow and work situations, but I do like to change it up a bit every now and then. I get...bored...or restless. I imagine that's what people with extra money do to escape, they travel. They wander for a change of scenery or life or whatever they need changing. For me it's a miracle I've stayed in the same house now for over a year (this one's a given cuz I own it), but every once a month or two I start to think of renting the whole place out and moving to Phoenix.