Traveling
I am in Tucson, Arizona right now. Sitting in a wealthy persons beautiful kitchen, listening to John Denver sing about a reason to try. I am surrounded by desert. Big, beautiful, terrifying desert, with cactus soaring 20 ft above me, hundreds of years old. I am walking someone elses chihuahua, milking someone elses goats, feeding their chickens. Sleeping in their bed. A part of me loves it. And a part of me thinks it's a very lonely sort of existence, and isn't sure we want to do this long term. Someone elses home, no matter how beautiful, is not my home. And I want a home. But more than I want a home, I want to be healthy enough to create a home. I want a home crafted from my heart and head, my happy, healthy, and whole heart and head. So, in order to find a home, I am on the road to fixing a few things. I hate that term. Fixing things. Like I'm a machine with missing and broken parts. It feels true, though. Regardless of what else I am, first and foremost I am a