"If Nothing Else, I can Dream..."

Did I "miss" NYC?

Last weekend I went to Boston and NYC. I had a wonderful time. However, I can't help but mark the fact that in NYC I didn't pick up a lot of energy the way I expected to. I didn't feel super inspired. I was just there, in a really big city. I had a great time, I felt happy...but I didn't feel something radiating splendidly from the fibers of the city's tall towers or the cracks in its pavement. It didn't call to me. (With the exception of the mass / liturgy we went to in the Village. The Gospel called to me there).

Was I simply not supposed to feel the energy there in that way, at that time?

I felt A LOT of energy and inspiration in Boston. I felt pretty alive there. I felt my feet claim the streets they walked on. I felt my heart beat along to my steps. I felt like one of the people there...kids buzzing around with their books and agendas, young with academic lust. Professors with their books and coffee, having forgotten the intoxication of agendas. They worked around me, walked by me, but also through me. They saw me. It felt a somewhat like Bellingham. I didn't feel invisible to them (or wish to be). I wasn't a ghost.

I don't know what all this means or if it means anything. I could see myself on the East Coast someday. Which is weird....I've been loving the PNW so much that I thought I felt myself becoming exclusively a West Coast gal forever. I do see a certain level of drama and culture in the East that my soul seems to crave. Not to mention the adventure of a journey taken to get there...on foot (or bike), tramping across the northern and midwestern states. Through the state of Minnesota where HOM resides. I have always dreamed of being in the HOM community at some point.

We'll see what happens. It's fun to dream. But I won't dream too much or let myself become preoccupied with fantasy. I have an awesome life right now. The reason a journey is lifechanging for a human is not because of the rush and excitement of being in a new place. Rushes and excitements come and go for hundreds of reasons, and they leave small impressions on us throughout our lives, like flashes of lights on stage in the drama of our living story of life. The real impressions come from the characters we meet. I don't have to run or pack bags or travel very far at all to be transformed by that. Just look at who my neighbors are, and start a dialogue. Maybe give them a place to write a line or two. That's the rawest level of transformation possible in the human experience. That's the skeleton's bones.

Many thanks to those who made this adventure possible for me: Charles for the flight, Carly and Jo for opening your home, Murphy for the late night snuggles of affection (K9 love), Uncle Andy for the airport shuttling, Daniel for feeding me and having fun with me, and Betsy for offering your place and breakfast and being my new friend. Thanks be to God for friends and hospitality and the wonderful things we share on this wonderful planet.