You can't have roots and wings.
This is the weekend of the Parish Farming Internship we visit Isodore's Plough.
I'm finishing up some of the readings and my journal.
The morning is calm as I sip coffee and express my experiences over the last two months. The soothing sounds of morning pour out of the kitchen into the dining room table where I am perched. I can hear the sink running and the fridge door as Ellen completes her Friday morning routine. Travis stops and talks with me for a moment before he leaves for the morning commute.
I want so much to have wings.
I want to see every country
every city
every tree
every mountain
I want to stand on every continent.
But I hate money.
I don't want to slave away to pay for such things.
I am always reminded of what Christopher McCandless wrote:
Happiness only real when shared.
What good are wings if I fly alone?
Yet roots and feel so restricting.
roots give meaning and purpose to live.
Roots give color to the outlines of the painting of life.
How do I dig such roots while still feeding my hunger to explore?
As years seem to fly by I look at myself and see I am nearly 27.
...27 the start of my late twenties.
I've never been this old before.
My friends, my roots around me seem to be settling into the soil they are around.
I find myself trying to fly together but finding their nests beginning to be built.
I'm not ready for that yet. There is so much more to see and taste.
Marriage and family
those things can start in my 30's but now, in my youth I want to climb, I want to run, I want to see!
How many more summers of good knees do I have left?
How many more years of healthy lungs and strong back do I have to spend?
I'm not ready for my coffin couch with my Netflix grave.
I want to fly with my wings and yet I want to share with my roots.
I am so excited for this weekend. I love this Parish Farming Internship.
It always feeds me more than I can bare both physically and spiritually.
Young Rising Sons - High
This is the weekend of the Parish Farming Internship we visit Isodore's Plough.
I'm finishing up some of the readings and my journal.
The morning is calm as I sip coffee and express my experiences over the last two months. The soothing sounds of morning pour out of the kitchen into the dining room table where I am perched. I can hear the sink running and the fridge door as Ellen completes her Friday morning routine. Travis stops and talks with me for a moment before he leaves for the morning commute.
I want so much to have wings.
I want to see every country
every city
every tree
every mountain
I want to stand on every continent.
But I hate money.
I don't want to slave away to pay for such things.
I am always reminded of what Christopher McCandless wrote:
Happiness only real when shared.
What good are wings if I fly alone?
Yet roots and feel so restricting.
roots give meaning and purpose to live.
Roots give color to the outlines of the painting of life.
How do I dig such roots while still feeding my hunger to explore?
As years seem to fly by I look at myself and see I am nearly 27.
...27 the start of my late twenties.
I've never been this old before.
My friends, my roots around me seem to be settling into the soil they are around.
I find myself trying to fly together but finding their nests beginning to be built.
I'm not ready for that yet. There is so much more to see and taste.
Marriage and family
those things can start in my 30's but now, in my youth I want to climb, I want to run, I want to see!
How many more summers of good knees do I have left?
How many more years of healthy lungs and strong back do I have to spend?
I'm not ready for my coffin couch with my Netflix grave.
I want to fly with my wings and yet I want to share with my roots.
I am so excited for this weekend. I love this Parish Farming Internship.
It always feeds me more than I can bare both physically and spiritually.
Young Rising Sons - High