It is foggy here today.
Not just a bit of passing fog. It is heavy, hazy fog. The type of fog that bad horror movies are made of. The same fog that rolls in over the hills into the bay covering the city of San Francisco. I am reminded of the days when I lived in the East Bay.
My days in San Fran were grand fun. However, back then, if I were more outgoing, the sky could have been the limit. Still I enjoyed my time there. It was a fabulous year. I really immersed myself into the city. I knew my way around that area like the back of my hand. I could be to any winery in an hour. I soaked up the sun and the wine. It was a freeing experience.
That year would lay the ground work that would lead me to where I am today. Staying on the work site and assimilating into life in a new city.
Over the past ten years, I have lived in many places. Sometimes the places that are designated as "home" feel the most alien. Other places with no attachments, no memories become the more of a home than I've ever known. Alone, building a life in a strange land fulfills me, satisfies me. While change scares some people, it excites me.
Several years ago with Shelley on one of her psychic hunts, we had our palms read and the woman told me that she saw me in a past life dancing around a fire. I was a gypsy. Recently I remembered her words and realized I still carry a lot of that gypsy life along with me. My urge to roam, to explore is still alive and well. I get restless when I am stuck at my home base for too long. The need for adventure, the unknown feeds me, drives me.
When the fog lifts, this small corner of the world will be clear again. I wonder if everything will be visible? Will my next steps be illuminated? Or do I simply follow my wandering soul trusting I will land precisely where I am meant to be?