Wild Words: Ancient-Place-Experience

I have to travel the world. It's an insatiable need. I must stand on rocky promontories on the coast of Ireland and feel the sea spray kiss my face. I need to watch the sun set over a glassy lake in the Swiss Alps. My soul craves the lush foliage of the ancient forests of China. I have this deep need to visit the Grand Canyon, the Rockies, the Redwood Forest, and plant my feet where the native people of this land walked hundreds of years ago with a deep respect for the earth. I want to see Machu Picchu. I need to experience the wonder of Aurora Borealis.

I need to feel the earth and its wonders with an ancient knowing of place. And I feel this need growing all the time. It hits me randomly , unexpectedly. When I'm drinking coffee in the morning, or watching my children ride their trikes in the driveway, or when I'm writing.

I can't escape it. My soul swells, sighs, with anticipation of digging my toes into ancient soil, of breathing in the salt and air of the Irish coastline, of witnessing the amazing light show God made in the north. It makes my breath catch.

But how am I supposed to travel? How am I supposed to experience these beautiful, amazing things? I can't even afford some normal, everyday things. So, how does one travel? How does one fill that soul-requirement of ancient-place-experience?

I could dream. Imagination in and of itself is quite a wonder. And my imagination does take me to some wonderful places.

But it's not enough. It's not enough to just think about it. I need tofeel it. To experience it. I need to be there, to let the earth speak its secrets to my soul. I need to hear the whispers of those who have gone before me. I need my feet to walk to the same path, my soul to follow the same wind.

I need to absorb the spirit of the earth by experiencing these places, these wonders.

I need to breathe in and exhale their stories, their life. My own life feels incomplete without these experiences.

And I don’t seek them out of selfish gain. It would be lovely to visit places simply because the experiences would make my life more meaningful. But, I feel this connection to these places I’ve never been, like the stories are calling out to me. Stories of pasts that never were. Stories of futures that could be. Stories of beauty, devastation, life, death, ethereal wonder. The stories find my soul, and they tug at me, pulling me until I have no choice but to follow.

So follow I must. Somehow, some way. Someday.

I want someday to be now.