Under the Australian Moon

It is my last night in Australia.

In Melbourne, the moon looks like our house-cat Oscar.

Growing up, my father always showed me a bunny riding a tricycle.

Tonight I can’t find anything. Just light and dark.

I think the moon might have the only shadows that still somehow manage to cast light.

It’s beautiful.

Sometimes I wonder, about where I’ve been, and who I used to be. Life changes everyone, and I wonder if I miss the things I lost to get here.

I wonder if I even know what those things are.

I read once: “Become the person you needed most.” “Become the person who would have saved you.”

I think…I think I’m doing alright with that. Slowly, slowly, I think I’m getting better.

There are a lot of things that I’ve had to un-learn; impulses and unquestioned beliefs that don’t have any place in who I want to be.

There are many things I’ve had to learn; how to apologize, how to ask for help, how to admit I was wrong.

I am doing better with these things.

I am still learning about human interaction; how to build safe spaces, how to build relationships.
(Sometimes, I am afraid I don’t know how to make friends; that the only skill I have is collecting stories. Some days I am alright with that. Others, I am less so.)

If I were to get a tattoo, it would be a quote from Tom Dickens of Jane Austen Argument: “I may fail spectacularly, but I am a fan of spectacle.”

I am trying to find the lines of intersection between what I have always been told I should do, what I have always perceived as the nebulous mess that is “what everyone else does” and then what it is that *I* want.

Of course, this is always most difficult, because before I can go about mapping where these these things collide, I must first define what it is that I, in fact, *do* want.

Which, for me, takes a great deal of taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy. (Thank you, Ms. Frizzle.)

Sometimes I’m afraid that the only thing I’ve ever known how to do is to run away.
Sometimes, I think that maybe that’s okay.

No one lives in a vacuum. I cannot erase all of the things I picked up without realizing it. I can’t pretend to exist in a place where the only relevant factor is what I want.

I think, right now, in this moment, the best I can do is attempt to define my own parameters for success.

It is strange, because, in a way, I feel like I am “rejoining society” when I return to the U.S.A.

I’ve been traveling, which, while not overly common in the U.S., is a common way of life to everyone else, everywhere I’ve been.

For all my talk of planning, this is the first time in a long while where I…do not have plans.

I will find a job, and a place to live, because one requires the other, so I require both.

But after that?

I’m back to throwing darts at a bucket list.


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