I used to think the emptiness was romantic. Not anymore.

Ambiguity, uncertainty, no tangible destination…I thought that was how life was supposed to be. Always planning the next trip, always moving forwards…but into what, I never stopped to think. When there’s nowhere to go anymore, you’re forced to sit with yourself. At at that time you decide what you want to find in your heart.
Do you want to run? Or do you want to try to sit, just this once, just to see what can possibly be uncovered?
When you break your foot in the middle of a global pandemic, there’s plenty of time to sit. And then you can choose: Joy or sorrow? Self-pity or self-acceptance? Red pill or blue pill?
For once, I thought it would be refreshing to seek honesty. To look past the noise and romance and music and bright lights; I don’t ever know when I’m going to be able to visit New York again, after all.
And so that began the journey for now. One that is couched in stillness, rather than motion, in eye contact, as opposed to avoidance.
In honesty, rather than fear.
There comes a time when you realize you’re getting too old to run all of the time anymore, and sometimes walking steadily, without stopping is the better way to observe all the amazing elements of nature, the bluebirds and the cardinals, the leaves and the flowers, the bunnies hopping off, startled and adorable. And within this steadiness, you’re able to connect to the joy in your heart. That is the new romance.

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