It's funny. I am free as a bird (well, not really, but I do like the expression) yet sometimes I find myself craving the more everyday existence I used to have: the job (with obvious aspect of salary involved), the apartment, the more set/known social life, that normalcy of the day to day. A time when weekends had meaning.
Is the grass always greener on the other side? I remember all my thoughts of traveling were linked to the explorations of new lands, people, cultures. Not to mention some sort of self-discovery that I hoped would come with it too. Is this discovery just the reinforcement of parts of myself I already knew, but maybe did not really want to admit to? That I would like to be otherwise?
See, it seems to me that the grass IS greener on the other side, even though deep down I know it's just an illusion caused by distance. Not being so involved in that patch of life, you cannot see all the gaps of bare earth. Thinking positively, this means that something else could always grow there.
Interesting thing is, that I've found that being away from your every day, 'routine' existence, not seeing those you love on a pretty regular basis, and having the anchors of work/play/things that niggle/things that excite/things that hurt etc. you can become quite adrift from that reality and you as that person. I have always been rather introspective but this new level of being so is unknown since 2004. It is not that I am unhappy, far from it (although the usual comparison against others is a continual downfall), just I have reached this place inside myself that is quite calm and doesn't feel the need to utter many asides or anecdotes to life. Not out loud at least! You see, it's this long-ingrained belief that I don't have much advice or anything of great interest to add to the clutter that surrounds people. Or...is it that I have got out of the habit of having conversations with anyone but myself and have therefore done away with a lot of the elements needed to verbally engage with others?
I'm sure I used to talk more. I'm sure I used to have things to say. Now however I feel quite silent and even a little nonplussed at all the chatter around me. Why do people feel the need to fill in the gaps so much? I've heard that in Japan, meaning is implied more in what is not said (or shown) than what is. I must admit to wondering, however, if I have fallen too far through those spaces and the words I do gasp out are a cry for help recognition awareness of me through the grate
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