I just got back from Winnipeg, where I had a great time feeling away and awake and alive and alone and all those things that make a road warrior road worthy.
I came back as I often do, wild and weak and weary and worn, dragging myself to the doorstep with nothing but blunt words and worthless sighs to share.
So much of my life has been spent in faraway places, on the brink of this or that, chasing epiphanies and scrambling after peak experiences, that I’m afraid I’ve ruined my ability to be at peace in one place anymore. My heart crosses the doorstep like a marathon runner breasting the tape to collapse in exhaustion on the other side.
These are the ugly edges of my selfish self. I’ve got a lot of work to do.
Winnipeg was wonderful. For a while there, so was I.