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Tag: Introverted Nomad

Introvert Me

Introvert Me

I may not speak, but I’m listening and seeing.  I hear all that the people around me are saying.  Discussing.  I see their laughter and how they can smile and talk at the same time.  I hear their words.  I see them on their faces and in their hearts and I’m happy for them.  I admire how easily words come to them.  How quickly.  I admire their wit.  For me the words and the wit will come when the room is empty or perhaps by morning, too late, for now there’s no one to listen.  It’s okay.

The ones who take the time to get to know me will experience them, because they know me and understand.  They’ll wait.  They’ll check in.  They’ll give me their words in their time and I’ll give them mine when I can.

I can’t always speak at the moment I need to, because my brain doesn’t work like that.  I drink in moments with all of my senses. If I speak my thoughts, will it add or subtract from this moment?  I’m not putting words to those questions.  They’re just there, in the background.  It’s as if my words, at the moment, are in a language I haven’t yet learned and I’m trying to find them and assemble them before the moment has passed and it’s too late.  For me it is often too late.

I am an introvert, but I love people.  Crowds and noisy places overwhelm me.  If I had some quiet time before hand, I’m okay, because I need people and I have to go out into the world to find them.  I need conversation.  Not the kind that’s like a stone skipping across a pond, with each skip a new topic. I love conversation that explores and dives in, daring to reveal experienced emotions and revelations.

Even though I’m content with my solitude, I recognize the joy of spending time with another human being.  As someone who is slow to speak and slow to judge, still I do speak.  I can converse.  But I must feel safe and heard.  Still, I’m okay with just sitting quietly and listening.

If I’m spending time with you and the words are flowing from me freely, it’s because I trust you. This is something that takes time. Congratulations. You did what few have done.

I need people, but one at a time is best.  For me, there is nothing finer.  Time with a friend is more precious to me than gold or gems.  Such moments are treasures and are tucked away in my heart for a long time.  Even introverts can become profoundly lonely.


I Made Pudding…reposted from my old website “Travels With Einstein”

I Made Pudding…reposted from my old website “Travels With Einstein”

Grey Nomad

I’ve been a nomad for the past three years; a grey nomad. Traveling the country in a travel trailer and then a motorhome. It was a glorious time and it was shared by Einstein, my Golden Retriever. The words that follow are from my travel blog. I’m not a nomad right now, but who knows. I have wanderlust and it remains to be seen whether or not I can be content with life on firm foundation.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

By Dylan Thomas

Keeping in touch through social media

I read on Facebook about the special moments my children are experiencing with their children…memories they are living right now and that they will cherish always. As I read I remember my own times like that. There were achievements, performances, events where I witnessed them coming into their own, shaping themselves, living in the moment. I guess I long to have that all back…but it is gone and done. If I had lived just a generation earlier, I would be retired from a job, collecting a small pension, and sitting on the front porch waiting for something…I don’t know what. Life would belong to the young.

But I made pudding today..

I’ve asked no one to take this journey with me. In fact, I’ve intentionally needed to take it alone. I have needed quiet time to sit and reflect on what came before and what might come after. I want to think about how all the things I’ve done and experienced fit into what’s left of my time on the earth. When I drive along in the RV, miles of road before me, I want to see that road with my own eyes and feelings and impressions.

Whether I am able to muster up the courage to speak to a stranger, ask questions, ask advise, find out how their own path has gone out here on the road or behind the cash register or that counter…I want it to be because I wanted it. Right now I don’t want to consider anyone else’s opinion. I want to fit it all together by myself. When I come to an intersection, even if I had a plan at the start of the day, I want the freedom to change my mind and go left instead of right.

I’m ever mindful of the lessening of days in my life. Little aches and pains niggle at my mind and body, never letting me forget. This is my time and I’m letting it fall upon me quietly or loudly.

So today, on this Tuesday, I made pudding…because I wanted to.