Keeping the vagabonding spirit alive at home

Returning to Kansas after being in Asia for two years was intensely interesting. And overwhelming. And mind-boggling. At home but feeling like I prematurely left the womb, in shock, sitting back behind an obscure mask, observing the life I used to live, smiling on the inside at the absurdity of much of it. How was I ever caught in the ever-turning wheel of suffering to attain something that doesn't exist?

Stepping from the chaos into the clear and silent center of things, I finally realized the true beauty of Kansas. The sky stretching for miles and changing infinitely throughout the day, the thunderstorms, the greenish-yellow color in the air and the distinct warning smell when tornadoes are surely coming. The friendliness and openness of Kansans. The simple way of life in rural Kansas where time seems to move slower and the minds of most are on the weather and the condition of the crops instead of on the daily barrage of death and destruction constantly on the television.

Leaving home for a substantial amount of time (enough time to shrug off the fuzziness of cultural conditioning) was wonderful. But only after coming home was I able to put it all into perspective. Vagabonding to me is not about leaving somewhere and going somewhere else; vagabonding is about opening my eyes to the beauty of the world and keeping that spirit alive even when I am settled down in a community (where it's most easily lost in the daily routine of life).

Becoming aware of the details of everyday life, I take it all in and send out a silent thank you to the Universe with a deep breath and a slow exhale. Thank you for the morning dewdrops glistening, delicately balanced atop kale, unabashadely displaying infinity through their reflections. Thank you for the butterflies with their intricately patterned dusty wings, unaware of human things such as gluttony and killing sprees.

Thank you for this world and for this moment, wherever I may be.