Soakin' the Wounds

It’s not accurate to say that I didn’t felt weird coming home from the trip. I was exhausted, a little backwards, and definitely inspired, and affected in remarkable ways, although I just can’t feel it yet. It’s the same as when you look outside and the sky is grim and you open to the comics, where the horoscope column rambles ¼ of the page telling you that you’ll be facing obstacles of incalculable force, believing this is true, you later find out that the force is none other than the sky’s small sprinkles of rain. Yes, indeed the force existed, but you didn’t know how large or small it, whether it was going to tap you or rock you, but you saw it coming and the horoscope confirmed it was there. My predictions and expectations of my trip were like a bad horoscope, barely scratching the surface of what was really coming, but certainly opening the wounds and uncovering the experience of learning, growing, and being aware. I’m not ready to truly decipher what changes were inevitably made, whether I could predict or just confirm their affects. It just proved my will to travel alone, and allowed me to recognize how much I have the potential inside to love doing so. I’ve finally accepted hanging out with myself, and my faith in life and happiness is stronger than ever.