wanderlust (according to Webster): noun: strong longing or impulse toward wandering
wanderlust (Shawna-esque): the song my soul sings on a daily basis; the pulse that pumps through my bleeding veins. the thing that keeps me wanting, and yearning, and putting my fingers to the keys and my pen to the paper and my dreams into flight.

i love airports. i always have, and always will; they “do it for me,” whatever that elusive phrase means. on one level, i love the sense of adventure and travel they represent – checking in my bags and knowing I’ll find them again after our separation in different cabins in this crazy metal contraption that somehow zips us through the air at insanelymindblowing speed (how do those things STAY UP!?) for a joyful reunion in another state/country/corner of the world about which we inevitably always have certain expectations…palm tree relaxation or the culture and sophistication of cheesy smiles in front of Big Ben or the unmatched romantic notions of Paris in springtime or Australian surf towns or people who speak entirely different languages that thrill me with their foreign consonants and crazy senses of fashion…
but i crave airports for more than just this literal level of the traveling itself. i love the very transience; their earthly limbo, in-between the world i know and the world about which i’m dreaming of visiting and will soon enter as a wide-eyed tourist with dancing toes and glitterdreams; how i’m neither here nor there, and sharing this sense of un-belonging-yet-utter-thrill with thousands of strangers whose paths intersect with mine for perhaps just this one moment in history. so sing it, john mayer, and get it right, the way you always do for me…

“airports see it all the time
where someone’s last good-bye
blends in with someone’s sigh
cause someone’s coming home
in hand a single rose…”

these magical buildings, the concrete visuals to my wanderlust dreams; strongholds for so many emotions, promising doorways leading from one portal into adventures unknown, and transporting us all from one tiny dot on this greatbigworld to every corner of the globe and far away from each other once again…

(and how you catch her face when he meets her plane unexpectedly, flowers in hand to accompany his shy smile…or how you see her fighting to hold back tears as she hugs him good-bye, and you wonder when or if they’ll ever reunite…or what their story might be; whether this was the beginning, or the end…)

and then you think, as you leave that person or that place behind and blink back tears (or smile with anticipation/excitement about what’s to come)…how is it possible to ever become comfortable with the expression “settle down” when there exists so much beauty waiting to be chased, and so many different skies with which to fall in love…how do you know if you’ve ever experienced the best thing the world has to offer? and suddenly there’s no more black and white, no more love and hate, but rather a gradient continuum of days that only appear at the end of another night, or at the beginning of a new love…and i want nothing more than to learn to let it all slip away, like water over a bed of pearls. i’m learning to reinvent everything i ever thought i knew about love and life and playing for keeps.

[so then suffocate me with a thousand little loves…]
is it dangerous to love any one thing too much?
so then, where do we end, and the world begins…?
how easily we forget in these days of tunnel vision and self-made complacency, secure in our corner-of-the-world existences where we quite possibly do ourselves a major injustice by loving someone/something/some place so passionatelyutterlycompletely that we lose the world as it could be if only we would open up our clenched fists.
how many, many things there are to love, and lose oneself within…how often do we leave pieces of ourselves here and there, within the glitterglow of that one person’s smile, or the gasp of that one coast’s seashell sunrise, or the memories entwined in that one house’s climbing ivory and slide-perfect banister? we love the things we love because they’re ours, and we look at them merely to regain our own reflection, but how easily we become blinded by too big a love for that which we know we know and we know we can keep indefinitely.
but how much we unwittingly give up…the danger seethes from the ashes of our denial to dream (and we children of the modern age, how easily we forget to dream!)…and to the point where our ability to distribute a myriad of dagger-shot loves across this shimmer-sung universe of limitless surprises and moment-by-moment glimpses of newfound beauty becomes harbored by our tendencies to cling to that which rests before our eyes, we live as fools, groping and blind. we’re fooling ourselves with the false comforts of the familiar and calling it safety, loves. don’t you know, the world can be your home? just pray for wings, and learn when to let go.
there’s just so much to love, once we step out in faith onto the wind, vaporous and caught by such numbered days, where our only real obstacle to overcome is time. there’s only one today, and if we’re blessed, possibly another…
spend less time sitting, and more time soaring. love it all just a little, but enough to keep you chasing…

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