gypsy heart

   I didn't post a blog yesterday, so I am going to use my daughter's nap time to catch up :) I wanted to post yesterday about something I forgot in my quilting blog the day before.

   As I was driving to my aunts house, who lives in Francestown, I got one of my overwhelming feeling of nostalgia when I drove through the center of town. I never truly know what triggers or brings these feelings on, but I positively love and welcome them. It's an indescribable feeling with no definite thoughts to attach to said feeling. I can only assume that it stems from something in my childhood, as that's sort of how I feel in these moments. The feeling itself is incredibly hard for me to describe. I've tried to explain it to myself. It's a warm feeling of wholeness. I feel carefree and almost oblivious to all the pain and worries of the world. I momentarily feel complete, and then as quickly as it comes, it goes, and I feel this longing. It's a happy sort of longing, as if I temporarily had what it was I am missing, and I'm hopeful that it will come again. No matter how brief it can be it still gives me so much hope. And I can never pinpoint what exactly it is that I am longing for. A lot of times when these moments consume me (they literally do consume me) I tingle all over and my eyes inexplicably fill with tears. I wish I could bottle this awareness and break it out when I am feeling down. I wish I could harness it and feel it forever. I have, a few times, been able to understand a few slight things that trigger when this nostalgia visits me. But I have yet to understand why these certain things provoke it. Like, for instance, weirdly enough when ever I see a sunny hill with sparse trees on it. Every time I see one, I can feel myself standing on top of it looking down. And as I look down I can see the whole world and all it's goodness. I have no where to be and no certain thing to do and I feel as though I could happily live on that hill forever.

   This wistfulness also visits me in dreams. These are usually the dreams I remember most. But, again, I remember more the feeling of the dream rather than the actual dream itself. A lot of times I can revisit and remember the dream if I sort of meditate and try to retrieve the feeling. I can't think to hard about it and if I do I lose it. It has to sort of be a background thought and I have to mindlessly be doing something. One of the most unbelievable times this happened to me was when I had a dream about my friend Andy after he passed away. I woke up, knowing that he had been in my dream, feeling like I was still in the dream but had no idea what it was about. The feeling of the dream just lingered all morning and I puttered around in a sort of daze. Then I got in the shower. I didn't even realize until after the fact that I had literally lost myself in thought as I showered. I relived the dream I had had the night before. I remembered every moment of it. And it was beautiful. I won't go into complete detail, but in the dream my friend Andy was in this stunning, sunny, lush and green sort of nirvana. It was, and still is, the most magnificent sight I have ever seen.

   These brief and fleeting moments are part of the reason I think I feel such wanderlust. Whenever I visit new places, I create new memories of this feeling. Like the first time my sister and I visited Cancun. I felt it then. I lived it for an entire week. I had never felt more at home and my sister and I literally cried in the airport the day we were leaving. We would have done anything to stay and I'm always longing to go back. I wish I understood more about this. If anyone can offer any insight into this please feel free. Maybe it's something that isn't meant to be understood though. Maybe that is the beauty of it. Maybe I am a gypsy at heart and I am always longing to wander and feel alive and free..