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As I went about getting ready to fly to Paris, tomorrow, one of the ladies I met about my preparations asked me about my daily routine for haircare, and what my plans were. She told me I should be very proud of myself for all that I was doing, but when I told her of my misgivings of not having a real home, this is what she said, “Your real friends will always be your friends wherever you go. Don’t worry about not having a set place

“You are growing wings, your other friends are growing roots. It is better to have wings.”

Now, in case you haven’t noticed, I really take it to heart that you meet everyone in this life for a reason, and I am damn romantic about living for the spiritual journey and not just the material comforts of tihis life.

Now, I had recently seen a facebook status about the roots vs wings conundrums on a friend’s page I hadn’t talked to in years. Apparently, it comes from the movie Sweet Home Alabama, which I have enjoyed in the past without really thinking it had any redeeming artistic or moral value. Not a cultural snob, but I typically don’t go out of my way to watch Reese Witherspoon movies either, unless we are talking about “How Do You Know,” which also stars Paul Rudd. That being said, I had immediately tried to find it on Netflix to no avail (womp womp) for research purposes (and I think the Southern first husband guy is super cute, just saying).

So when this random store lad used that particular analogy, I kind of took it to heart. I also reflected on he poetry I’ve been writing and how I see flight, escape, and Eddie Money’s “Two Tickets to Paradise,” as extremely high manifestations of romance. Love is an adventure, and life should be uncommon. Strangely enough, the more you try to remember each moment will not be repeated (travel helps with that)  the more the most common occurences seem like magic, and people just open up their wisdom to you. In closing, the lady told me to have dark chocolate (because it is healthier than milk) and a semi sweet red wine. That would probably be slightly more enriching than ruminating over this experience, but I think I’m about to find the pearl if you’ll give me a minute here. Of course, writing this is taking me away from my previous hours at home, but anyway…

Instead of looking for something or someone to settle for, I should look for what makes me fly, and follow it. LIke Tom Hanks in Castaway with his fake FeddEx wings. Instead of coming down to earth for companionship and belonging, maybe I will take to the sky (note: still don’t think I’m in for the life of perpetual nomad. The change I’m talking about here is a little more subtle and conceptual than that) and find my home there. After all,

When you take a leap of faith, one of two things will happen; either God will catch you or he will give you wings to fly.

PS- should I get a tattoo of angelwings or a fleur de lys on my foot? I have jewelry with both of those things, and sometimes I don’t think tattoos come out that pretty..

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