Musing 1

I constantly feel the two wolves inside me warring. On the one hand, I see my overalls and hiking boots calling me to be taken out, sunshine and dirt to be rubbed into their fibers. No cares except hydration, energy, and destination. On the other hand, I see myself in a black, velvet dress with an Audrey Hepburn-esque sun hat, walking down the streets of a concrete jungle, glamorous and bright. My cares are different; destination is still on the list. When tossed upon the sea and fighting to find my direction, I try to make this decision, but at least every two weeks, the direction changes. Audrey Hepburn or Laura Ingalls Wilder?

I sit and wonder whether the direction involves both. Can't I chart a course to a land that has waterfalls and plains and forests and deserts? I am inclined to think I've always been told to choose. City or country? Girly girl or tomboy? Black or white? You must know which one you are, which one you want to be. Again, I see a storm-tossed sea, churning with blues and whites and greens and greys my little vessel pointing north, then north-west, then north-east, then north-west again. I may see it all after all.