Sunday, April 6, 2014

Moving Log #3 - Arrival

People speak of past lives and ghosts in silly ways sometimes. I'm no less peculiar. When I think of my past self, it can feel like I'm catching glimpses of a ghost. It is a pensive peering into a comparison of my past and present self. It's often unnecessary, but when revisiting certain locations and people such fleeting glimpses are bound to occur. And I certainly had to drive through ghosts to get to here.

I visited with family and many friends driving through Tennessee on my way to Colorado. Countless memories flooded back from places I've lived, visited, and people I knew.

These ghosts, or thoughts of me in the past, aren't any less myself, nor where they frightening or anything like that. These are just thoughts imagining what I'd be doing if I woke up one week ago. Or one year. Or five, ten, twenty years ago. These are remnants and recollections of what was important and relevant at that time. To revisit such times can be haunting or tranquil. Obviously, I left such places long ago, but my impression stayed. Impressions being anything from breaking off a tree branch you were climbing as a kid to influencing those around me. I'm not saying for good or for bad, right or wrong, I only speaking of what is. There are places I've been and am known and the way that I was and the way that I am are both different and still... me.

Once I drove west out of Tennessee, this me became uncharted territory.

The present is at a cusp of blazing a new path. Far removed from past locales and influences, yet equally as far from the future where this environment is familiar and homey. Things don't remain new or unknown for very long which is why when they are that way, they're so exciting to me. Right know is fantastic and was unimagined a month ago. I love seeing where this is all heading. I know the future I've been chasing after for quite some time. But that's what I'm trying to say. It's no longer the future, it is now.

That 24+ hour drive to Colorado, this photograph, that worry, that's a memory now.




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