At Home, Elsewhere

learning how to be at home

Life is Like Writing

Today I don’t write much, because my mind is not really here with me – it’s elsewhere. The weather is nice and the air is still a little cold but it doesn’t bite. I am going out today to actually enjoy France, finally.

I am someone who thinks a lot, and my writing is often a reflection of my thoughts. But sometimes, it’s good to take the air and spend time with others. To let your mind process all the little things it worries about in peace, without you noticing it and writing it down. To float off somewhere else where your heart is more satisfied.

Although I love writing so much, I don’t feel the need to hold onto it tightly. Isn’t that what we do with things or people we love? We let them go, because we know our physical absence doesn’t mean that the connection is broken. It’s only when we are afraid that the connection will disappear, that we hold on so tight that it breaks. But when we can let it go, we can float inside and outside of each other with ease.

This is my dream anyway. That everything in my life could be like my writing – both intense and full of ease. Sounds like something that I can’t always appreciate in my day, but yet I know that it remains there as a perception I can always choose.

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