November 1, 2013. Kansas City.
I fear I've no proper title for this post. "Cure" is a bit too promising. Maybe "ways to help" would be more fitting. But I like it. And so there's that.
Getting on with it...
Of course, as expected, coming back from Munich has left me with a sense of restlessness. It's hard to go from everyday being an absolute adventure, full of new words and people, to something a little bit more routine. But it's all about perspective. Because a few weeks ago I found myself lost in downtown Kansas City and I could have very well been in a foreign city, I was so lost. But it was beautiful, and I stopped and took a picture. Because this was the Kansas City I grew up in. There's so much of it I have yet to see. Isn't that kind of amazing? My whole life, and yet, this little block I'd never registered in my memory. Or maybe, living abroad for two years is what it took for me to notice these things. It's as if you have to leave in order to come home and see what's really there.
But, as per usual, I have a soul that's always longing to wander. One of my very favorite songs -- Anchor by Mindy Gledhill -- has a line that says "I am nearly world renowned / As a restless soul who always skips town" and the first time I heard that line it struck a chord deep within my heart. It definitely spoke to me. As cheesy, and pun-ny as it sounds. I am a restless soul. That's the truth.
I am, however, in a Season of transition, a time of learning and growing and preparation. I'm not sure what for exactly, but I just know that this is a vital time during which is so important for me to be patient and learn what fuels my soul.
So far I have learned the following:
A "cure for restlessness"
if you will:
if you will:
Tea. Even if you have to microwave the water because you don't have a kettle nor the desire to buy one... yet.
Books. All kinds. All topics. All the books.
Frasier. Or whatever happens to be your TV fix as of late. On repeat. Every night as you fall asleep.
Gratitude. And expressing it.
Writing letters. The good, old-fashioned, stick a stamp on it, push it through the mail slot kind.
Water. Lots. I prefer sparkly now because Germany was bound to get me hooked, and that it did.
Music. As often as you can. As loud as plausible. Singing along. (This mix is wonderful.)
(And: I'm trying to memorize my favorite poems. This is one.)
by Mary Oliver
May I never not be frisky,
May I never not be risque,
May my ashes, when you have them, friend,
and give them to the ocean,
leap and froth of the waves,
still loving movement,
still ready, beyond all else,
to dance for the world.
“The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself.” ― C. JoyBell C.