I met someone the Saturday after my 18th birthday who changed my life. Though we spent the night together, I never saw him again. It was a pivotal time of my life and I’ve yet to be able to completely let him go. I’ve still felt his presence although I no longer believe he is still here. His spirit still comes to visit. Periods of my life, he has still loomed large; I’ve still missed him, still yearned for his companionship. Decades later, I still feel that tie, that connection.
I’ve sought remedies. They help but do not last. I no longer hurt the way I used to when those times arose, but they still arise. These moments are born out of loneliness and longing as I continue seeking my tribe.
People don’t see me as out of place; it is I who never feels quite settled. I recognize that the concept of permanence as one that is alien to me. I have navigated my path through questioning and questing. It comes with resilience as has the times too numerous to count when I have stumbled and fallen. Yet, I have learned to pick myself back up, dust myself off, and continue on my way. Indeed, I have become quite adept at it.
Only, it’s still lonely work.
Along the way, I’ve met the Gods and Goddesses of old. They’ve introduced themselves with their trials and their triumphs. They’ve whispered their stories and welcomed me in as a fellow traveler. As many of them have been, I too am a wanderer.
Deeply flawed, with no mea culpa, no bended knee, no bowed head, no fear, no judgement, no condemnation; a quiet acceptance and willingness to walk my path with me. Companions along my journey, making the quest of a seeker a little less lonely.