Imbolc \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Bloodroot Moon<\/p>\n
Oh, man. \u00a0Staying up late no longer has the romance it used to have, or else the way I feel after, like this morning, has simply become intolerable. \u00a0Whatever I don’t like the feeling, jangly, edgy, a bit morose.<\/p>\n
Had a dream last night where someone tried to steal my laptop. \u00a0While I had it in my hands. \u00a0I cried out, “Stop that!” and flung my arms up, waking myself up. \u00a0Pre-travel jitters I imagine.<\/p>\n
Now when I travel, or at least prior to travel, I have a period, sometimes intense, of not wanting to go. \u00a0Not wanting to leave the predictable comforts of home for the uncertainty of the road, the hassles, the physical demands. \u00a0Once I leave the house this all wanes and then again I delight in travel. \u00a0The strangeness of it. \u00a0The oddities. \u00a0Even the hassles, so long as they don’t involve running for airplanes.<\/p>\n
My family was born to travel. \u00a0Mom went to Europe as a WAC during WWII. \u00a0Dad traveled happily and often within the US with the occasional trip to Canada. \u00a0Once, even, to Singapore. \u00a0Mark has traveled the world since college or close thereafter. \u00a0Mary moved to Malaysia many years ago and both still wander. \u00a0Mary just returned to Singapore from Valencia and England. \u00a0Mark toured Saudi Arabia over his break.<\/p>\n
Wanderlust, I suppose. \u00a0A sense that the present moment, the home, needs the occasional view from afar. \u00a0A desire to see what’s over the next hill. \u00a0In the next valley. \u00a0Around the next bend. \u00a0There is, too, at least for me, gaining a clear sense of my Self as stranger in this world, one alone while living with others. \u00a0This existential isolation hides often at home, the quotidian a salve for it.<\/p>\n
So, Washington, D.C. \u00a0I was last there during a layover for a train home from Savannah, Georgia. \u00a0I went to the National Gallery that day; I’ll go again this week.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Imbolc \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Bloodroot Moon Oh, man. \u00a0Staying up late no longer has the romance it used to have, or else the way … Continue reading Oh, man.<\/span>