Now, I wear sunglasses all day.  They are second nature, in the same way that I reach for my car keys, automatic, a fact on the matter of it all.  A lot has changed since I lived my life out of a back pack.  I definitely have more clothes now.  I have a career that inspires me.  I have a career.  I am still haunted by the wind, though.  It is always nipping at my heels, a continuous urging to put out my sail and drift dreamily through the world.  Day dream and sunshine all my life away. I guess I feared that the 'real' world could never exist as beautifully as the one I created in my mind.  A blade of grass bending in the wind gusts from the highway traffic becomes so much more than a fact of physics when you aren't interested in the primary reality of the thing.  The world is a slave to our perceptions.  Looking back, I realize that I spent so much time dreaming my life that the actual sequence of events unfolded the way I painted them.  Self-fulfilling prophecy, or maybe it is just a story told over and over so many times that it becomes alive.  Life as a mantra for life. I believe everyone recreates their world, yet I find that I have a lot more magic markers for coloring outside the lines than most people ever bother to dream up.  Maybe I got them from all the stops I made while hitchhiking. Hitchhiking is composed more of stopping than going, really. Watching. The world races around you. Leaning on the guardrail, water jug resting loosely between your thumb and index finger. Wondering what adventure will stir you to motion. Too still to be waiting, even.
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