On Longing.

Lately, I've felt the need to write, but I've found myself at a loss for words. See, when I want to blog, I wait for that epiphany to hit me so my words stream freely. 

I wait for the ephemeral moment where lightening flashes, but the affects of the thunder still shape the moment and the residual experience. 

The thing that's been on my mind most lately is freedom. Specifically, in  the forms of places and words. We live in a great big world described by a myriad of ambiguous and arbitrary words. Yet such a big world and its arbitrary descriptions have such a defining impact on our microscopic life. 

I think that we all crave freedom. Freedom from the constraints of this world, from the responsibilities of being an adult, from our personal baggage, and often our own defining thoughts. For some people, the way to quench the craving is a space bigger than one's own self. For others, it's the series of words they dream of and cling to the hopes of hearing. 

In a way, we leave our freedom and hope dependent on others. To go to another place often requires a third party to help make that happen, be it an employer, a significant other, family, etc. It's a dream to move away and start over. But the fear of it all holds us back. So the other person acts as a crutch to make our break the decision. 

But therein lies the paradox. The places where we feel free are the places we often can't be. The places in which we thought would give us freedom and rejuvenation are the chains that constrain us. Thus the never ending paradox begins of staying in the comfort of the chains or running to something new against the wishes and support of others. 

The caveat is that the support of others isn't always a physical thing. Many times, it's an intangible syntax. It's the words of approval from a family member, it's the apology from those who betrayed us, it's the confession of love from someone we hold so dear to us. It's the hope that someone understands us and can speak through to our soul. 

Yet when we don't hear those words, or when the words we hear are an adapted or abridged version that doesn't fit our imaginary thesis, we become even more confined. As much as we may desire to flee, we hold ourselves closer in hope we will hear the words we dream of. 

So here we stand at the crucial moment. The moment where we stand bonded in chains of geography and syntax. For some it could be the moment where one results in the dismissal of the other. Or the moment where we break free. 

I can't say I know the answer. It's 2am and I'm trying to wrap my mind around a concept that consumes me while I listen to the rain cleanse the city. But I know this. I know there are spaces where we feel free because we feel bigger than ourselves. I know there are words that free us because they are the very thing we dream of as we fall asleep, or the words that keep us awake as we bond with insomnia. 

My freedom is in a city. In a place where there are millions and no one knows who I am and my story. My words are those that affirm my deepest insecurities. I spend my nights of insomnia thinking of the places I want to go and the words I want to hear. 

But my freedom and my chains are not bigger than me. I can rid myself of insecurities. I can remove bondage to weaknesses in hopes of something new and revitalizing. I can move myself to a new city where I am new. I can surround myself with inspiration and dive into something greater than I've ever known. 

And as I write this, I'm still thinking of the words I want to hear and the places I want to go. Two things that are polar opposite. And as much as I want to end with an epiphany about the next step for you and me, I don't have one. 

The closest thing I bhave to an epiphany are the simplistic and profound words of Ellie Frederickson. 

"Thanks for the adventure. Now go have a new one."