space, place, field, travel, one two three my mind unraveled...

I am not new to this field. Four winters have passed since I came to this wheat, the swath of openness. This, my fifth, finds me here still at the work of excavating my "passion" from the heaps of books, concepts, histories, and possibilities that daily accumulate in the already cluttered space of my mind. Someone once told me, "you go to college to learn what you've got to learn to make a living in this world, but you go also to find your passion- that thing that is the living of your life." The words, writen in a high school graduation card, and other such advice spoken to me over the past few years have served to both liberate me and to weight me to this search- this search for a nourishing, directing passion- which finds me here, still, a student, excavating every conceivable field for the palpitating heart of my purpose. I can hear it beating sometimes, as I write, as I read Rilke or walk through the city (that is, Seattle, my first and truest home) admiring the galleries of grafity on the exterior walls of Jack in the Box and various electrical boxes on Broadway that grow more and more sophisticated, more beautiful each year. I hear it sometimes beating in the palm of Dan's hand when he thoughtlessly touches my face in his sleep. I hear it sometimes in the heavy silence of the loft at night- throbbing, pounding, wailing for me to find it. Every day I'm excating the various fields of my life- the intellectual, the private, the poetic, the dream fields in which I'm desperate to unearth a sense of myself beyond this search. The self realized. The passion. I'm searching for the passion, direction, purpose not for my life time, no, simply the first driving need that will allow me to leave this scowered field, to begin moving, working, and growing my love, my life, my future. It is no easy task. It is no easy task. It is no easy task, but I do it and I hope and I keep my ears open to listen for the beat.