Born to Move
Nomadically speaking, why do I insist on staying put? My inflexibility is my suffering. Out flows the dusty stagnation, the revitalization of recleaning the refrigerator, my baggage bursting at the seams. It feels unnatural to move when I just unpacked. Shived out of my own cell. “But, I want to stay!”
“No”, says What Is. “You mustn’t.”
Pain calls me back into my bodyhouse. I follow the signs towards better health.
“Be in the body”, this is my old scripture, one that I go to when I need to reseek my truth. My test-a-man-t. Can I be my own savior, can I be my own following?
This bouncy house experience feels ‘privileged’ from an outside gaze, embarrassed to have, yet so necessary to live. And when I’m here, fully occupying, I’m in my happy place. I know where I am.
I pick up where I left off. I am a nomad. A place of my own making, coming forth from everywhere I’m led. The nomadic people must have felt the pull, for their own well(be-in)g in what serves them. My magical reindeer herd is my Alaskan community, coincidently reconnecting far outside 59° North.
Maybe I’m just moving in my own boots, growing ‘up’ – in a different direction. Heading North or South is the new age movement. I feel awake at 6am.
Be well, Eat Well Nomad,
Psychic Medium, Spirit Guide & Writer