“No permanence is ours; we are a wave
That flows to fit whatever form it finds” 
― Hermann Hesse

Put me in a room of strangers and I will find the man who moves. The one who without a doubt will not be staying for more than two months; whose eyes are set on the next adventure. You know these men. The ones who live lives built up of a mosaic of places and jobs and the spirit of saying ‘yes.’ I’m not sure if it is me or them, but we are attracted to each other like a moth to flame. I am under the belief that everything and everyone that happens to us, happens at exactly the point in time where we can learn from them. What I have learned from these men is how to attach without attaching. How to let my heart unfold in stories of the way ‘we’ could go, and then to let those stories fall away. And then, most importantly, how it feels to be on the other side of the transience.

I fall quickly and jump fast and feel pain deeply. Many of my friends have suggested ‘going slow’ which little do they know, is not an option when you are moving fast. Moving, traveling, changing place… they all lead to a feeling of ‘carpe diem’ every. single. day. With the widespread unknown of if you will see a person or a place again, each moment becomes rich with the desire to savor and slurp them up. We often find our best selves here, in this space with nothing to lose, and I realize now that I developed an addiction to it. I’m coming out of a period of my life where the pace of the everyday could not satiate me. While it has led to some amazing loves, some explosive feelings, and a glimpse of how deep emotions can run, it did not grant space for people to move at the speed that truly allowed our lives to run out into forever together. So yeah, I guess that means I’m slowing down.

That leaves us here, with the transient men and me. The one’s who crave life filled with uncertainty and the magic that somehow holds our worlds together. Serendipity, timing, chance… they have become dear friends. It is hard to explain this way of life to people who do not operate from the same set of motives, which is perhaps why I find these men that make my life and heart make more sense. The trouble arrives when it is time to let go of the connection. When we whisper our goodbyes, and set each other free to live the lives that we were set to live before we collided. It gets hazy in this space, and I still struggle to untangle myself from the ‘what ifs.’ I want to grab on, but the only choice is to let go.

Why I go here, is that it is the space where I come alive. In the chaos of letting go, art bursts from my bones. Words dance across the lilies and I find my days full of song. Nothing and everything make sense at the same time. Some say its foolish, but I would rather look like a fool in the name of love than wish that I had. I’m ready for the moment that love turns on its heels and decides to stay. That this is it, and the whole time I will never have been in half-way. I do not want a half-way, wobble wobble romance. I just want yes, and more yes.

I’ve learned to pick up the pieces from this way of loving. To trust without feeling betrayed. To love and let go and love again. The lessons are slowly unraveling around me and I am learning what it means to be me. The full mess of me. That loves hard and plays hard and laughs with the sun dripping off of my skin. This life is the only life I would choose a million times, and I love the way I’m doing it.

If you’re one of the people who shows up with your heart in both hands, I applaud you. It is only the bravest of us that carry on the hope for real love to sneak in unannounced. We are the romantics who keep the stories alive. Who carry honey in our pockets and sing with the moon. The big love will find it’s way to us, and it will stay. I believe it.