Introductions scare me.

Not because I can’t find the words, though that’s part of it, but mostly because I wrestle to confine the expanse of my ever-evolving self. It’s hard to pin down who I am when all I seem to do is move, run, become..

And yet, every now and then, I feel the need to break that silence, to breathe into it. To really look at who I’ve become. How far I’ve come.

So here I am.

For 35 years, I never questioned my purpose.
That only shifted at 37, when I found myself standing on a strange precipice, having fulfilled a massive dream and living inside it.

Becoming a mum! It’s a chapter for another time.

And somewhere in that joyride, I realized that most journeys begin by chasing the highs and end up skirting the lows while rushing past the in-between.

And what if we rewrote that story?

The one where we box ourselves in, sometimes to belong, sometimes out of loyalty to who we once were, and sometimes simply because familiarity felt safer than escaping.

As I navigate my life, one thing is for certain: comfort has never been an ally. And neither did boundaries do any good to me. So why stop now?!

This is where it all comes together for me. When that pull to escape a room descends, I simply flow with the rush and stretch beyond the edges. 

Leave behind a set of footprints, not as a trail for someone, but as a possibility to my gypsy heart.

It’s in this tug that I feel most alive. Unweighted by expectation. Unburdened by  responsibility.

This flow doesn’t need coaxing. It arrives the way floating does, effortless, instinctive and known. Exhilarated at the passing of a new face. Rightfully whelmed at the sight of a new place.

My body may feel heavy by the end of the day, but my mind has always been at ease. 

And maybe that’s why—

untethered,
I want to be swept.
by the winds as they decide what wave to surf next.