Living the “American Dream” of houses, cars, jobs, and stuff stuff stuff, I did not belong.
In the orange bug house in playa negra, costa rica, I did not belong.
In the big white spider house in salinas, ecuador, I did not belong.
In countless hostels I have had much fun and many wonderful times, but I did not belong.
But on the road, with people I love, living in a van, free to go wherever and whenever we chose, I belonged.
On trails that lead to mountain tops, I belong.
Dancing under ocean waves, I belong.
Reading in the grass on a sunny day, I belong.
Funny how having many belongings– brings us nowhere nearer to truly belonging.
I DO NOT GO TO FIND MYSELF– IT’S IN THE GOING THAT I CREATE MYSELF.