Genetic Geography
Pursuited
Path… logical
Interplay
Genetic geography
Inherited
Influences
Inserting
Postcardesque
parking
That has you at hello
Where you are is who you are. ~Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes
Sometimes, without having to ask for it, a silver platter of validation is served to us. It might plop in the manner of people or a variant panacea. That proverbial spoonful of sugar for settling any edginess that may be creeping into our standard state of sweetness. Since everyone questions themselves at one point or another, I believe that it’s a gooey au gratitude gift when we’re whisked away from our bummers. Like whenever you open your social media or peek at your email inbox with trepidation only to find a festive treat greeting you. So, instead of inadvertently getting fed doomscrolling material you’re slow-roasted in connected rosiness. I’ll readily champion that if y’all have yet to formulate your own life substantiation team, take this story as a loving literary elbow to ratchet such a squad to the top of your to-do list.
A wonderful human and friend, with one of the best names: Alison Wonderland Tucker, posted a semi-recent blog to her website that jogged my thoughts with deep resonance. She pulled my heartstrings by sharing about her choice eight years ago to let go of living in her favorite city in the world New York to follow her true love to the West Coast. Her disclosure and the anecdotal comments (re)affirmed my inbred proclivity toward adding more defendable homing ammunition versus singling one out. Mrs. Wonderland also happens to be a sumptuous chef. Should you be lucky enough to be based in the Portland Oregon area then bookmark this tasty link and thank me later. While, if you’re rolling in the type of dough that you’re ever seeking to wow your chums or colleagues with a catering gem, I’m sure you could sort a deal to fly her to your elected locale.
And I ride, and I ride ~The Passenger by Iggy Pop
A nitty-gritty bit of our anatomic architecture builds upon where we wind up residing. However, some of us are puzzled by the strict site we’re supposed to be physically. I mean, it isn’t that I don’t wish to be well-established. Rather, I do thoroughly enjoy my entrenched experiences in the plural. Vistas that sprawl as large Louvre paintings and equally offer quaint café crawls among socially affable streets. Those boudoirs beckoning my long-term appetite. Funky haunts to bustling metropolises that have been the kind of spots I could see myself practicing provinciality, marrying, and growing old exceedingly happily. I think that we belong to an array of options. The portion of Alison’s writing that spoke so highly to me is that we can adopt an evolutionary straddling mantra. Somewhere along my latitudes, I’d already found the will to agree and she merely reminded me.
Travel is ironically one of my anchors. Heralding a hereditary compulsion for traversing the earth is simply how I came factory-installed. Although DNA appears far from arbitrary to me. I’m made differently better by all of my meanderings. Besides, diversity has become my adaptability talisman. But, here’s the quandary, I’ve struggled with my questing for the perfect place on our planet to permanently hang my lingerie. It isn’t because I’ve got a scarcity of spaces that bring me that astonishing sense of ease marbled with idealized criterion. Pinch-me venues just have this je ne sais quoi feeling that I won’t wanna ever shake. My gene pool swims within these specific strokes that beguile me. I’ve schemed my way to many a bearing that seems tied to preferential perches designed conscientiously for my grounding. Most of what we unerringly want is wedded to the lands that welcome us.
Our tapestries of magistery are moveable feasts.
