What I Want

As the world becomes louder and more demanding with time and age, many of us stop searching and start living as if the way things are all there is. The seasons of playing in tune with the earth and feeling connected to something greater than ourselves become blurred figments of the past as we spend our days working, scrolling, and trying to manage the noise and grief of our modern, disconnected lives.

And then, one day, something inside of us — something weary and heavy — snaps. It’s time. We can choose to finally climb over the wall at the edge of our lives, which we’ve walked alongside for years. Pressing our way through the tall grass and into the dense forest, the trees bow to us as the bugs and birds sing to us, pulling us forward.

We know in our bones that we are welcome here, that we belong, and that we are home. Though we are certain we’ve never walked this path before, we feel the stirrings of the season’s air in our lungs. We may not know where we are going, but we can trust that the path before us does.

The forest around us seems more alive than anything we’ve experienced before, echoing our deep breaths and messy hair. Something within us is waking up, and we want more. It is important to allow ourselves to wander within our inner ideas of other ways of being, to romp messy.

In these dreams, the earth may reveal the spaces we so deeply crave, and ancient wisdom may reveal herself easily to us, where we may belong. Yet, often, these most enchanting daydreams only illuminate the stark reality that many of us live in daily: we are lonely.

We wither without a tangible sense of intimate connection.

(paraphrased from Roots & Ritual by Becca Piastrelli)