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“Always moving forward”, he replied back to me. “What are you moving forward?” I thought to myself. I doubt I will ever know. He has moved enough since the last time we saw each other. But he obviously feels as though there is more moving to be done. After we departed, I simply went home. Years later I am still in the same apartment. Still working at the same place. He, on the other hand, kept moving around. So much to see, so much to experience in the world, I guess. I know he has his roots. And eventually he will actually return to those roots. I, myself, have no roots. No returning to. I’m always a bit fascinated how long I hang around in particular places or in particular relationships without any roots tethering me. Somewhere in my subconsciousness I am aware it is for the time being. As it is with anything in life. As it is with life. His reply left me wondering what hasn’t moved in his life, within him, that he still needed to move forward. Despite me remaining in the same place, mountains have moved in my life. Without any effort. Without much of my contribution really. There were a couple of crucial decisions I had to make, but beyond that, everything else moved on its own. Despite me remaining in the same place, my whole life has changed. I haven’t moved a mile, yet I live in a different dimension. I believe it has a lot to do with me moving out of the way, instead of me wanting to make things move. It freed up that space in my life, that I struggled to find while not being present to inhabit it, that fits me just right. ~•~ a beautiful milieu