Who am I? Where am I going?

My friend Shelby, we met at the gym, fittingly enough. We bonded over our mutual love of yoga. We chat about life, our aspirations, our uncertainties, our favorite brands of yoga mats. One night, we attended a sunset Vinyasa on the beach. It was beautiful. The instructor was high as a kite, but we didn’t care, we were into it. Afterwards, Shelby came over to my apartment and read me some of her writings. Damn. This girl can write. She dictated a piece about imagining herself as a traveling gypsy in another life. With the risk of sounding corny right now, it gave me wanderlust. I could feel the exhilaration and the freedom of a life dedicated to constant movement. And I want you to feel it too. Read below…

I love long walks; boundless by uncharted territory. In a pervious life( If I was only too naive to believe in such) I see myself a gypsy; wondering at my very own leisure. How perfect would that be? The notion of traveling, arriving, acclimating, bonding, departing and ultimately traveling one again is just so enticing. The ephemerality of my stay would be of my judgment, my power and my spirit.
For some reason picking up, packing up and letting go comes naturally to me. During my short and entire life, I’ve developed a tenancy to be completely submerged another life than gradually and all at once aloof.. Why? I don’t know; just like I’m unaware a lot of things.
I question who I am and where I’m going more days than I have not. I wonder how inaccurate, spot on, little, or much the people I surround myself with know. I’m constantly detecting the evaluations other people make of myself, hoping I’d recognize my reflection from their mirror, yet I’m still no where to be found.
Could it be that I’ve matured, regressed, or morphed too quickly and impulsively that I can’t even keep up? Maybe. Could my mental image of myself be so erroneous, its unrecognizable? Probably. Could it be I’m so young, so malleable, so unexperienced I don’t even know myself? Most certainly.
Many times, I don’t know where I’m going, where I came from and what baggage I’ve lugged along side. But I do know something; I’m walking boundlessly from, through and towards uncharted territory
— Shelby Mara Yacovone
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Kerry Meyers