lightly; freely

Do you ever think about the things that you'll never think about, that which you just cognitively miss? It's those things that, due to your experiences, temperament and circumstances, go over your head. What about the things that we will miss as a generation? What those a thousand years from now shake their heads at us for? Recently, on a slightly different note, I've been thinking about the people I'll never meet. I think about the places I'll never go; the food that I'll never taste; the sounds I'll never hear; the feelings I'll never experience. How does that make you feel? Does it make you feel anxious?

When thinking about the places to never go, or the people to never meet, I assume there is normally a feeling of sadness, a lingering regret, or at the very least hints of melancholy that humans experience. However, for me, there are times which I actually feel uneasy for feeling no such thing, no such wanderlust, and no urge or inclination to travel. Don't mistake me; I've felt the desire to leave - and felt it strongly - but this feeling was always so different than everyone else's. Our conversations sounded the same, but inside, I felt my head tilted, unable to truly relate to the feeling of wanting to go from place to place, to see and feel and taste and experience.

Maybe no one ever really wants to just travel. Maybe no one is a thrill-seeker, wanting to "just live life." Maybe we're all searching for sehnsucht, and all we can do is put activities to that which there is no language for. And I think it works for some, at least for a little. Then the quest is on again. And we search.

I think I want to travel, to leave this island, so that I can find my home. That's not wanderlust. That's not a thrill-seeker's mentality. I think when it comes down to it, I just want to figure out where all of my preferences, my inclinations and my language, intersect.

I wonder if this place really exists. I wonder if it's sehnsucht. I think I catch glimpses in music and in the sunset. I feel it in cups of coffee and in conversation. When I'm driving by myself during the moments just before it's considered sunset - when everything's golden, I see it then. When I'm up late, having whispered conversations with friends, I feel it again. Then again, maybe I'm just fooling myself when I claim I'm looking for a big city to live in, the right city. I say that because in all of these things, when I take it, deconstruct it and just look at it for what it is, I see God. I see Jesus' smile and I feel His embrace. Not that I physically see "the lines on His face," but I somehow feel it and know it - I trust it.

And in that, I think I actually hold in my hands that which I truly possess. I am enveloped in light and love that chooses me, pursues me, and never ends. I am home.

And so, since I'm here, I pack lightly and travel freely.