There's No Place Like Home

To say that I have returned a changed woman would be an understatement. Not only have I experienced objectively through witnessing art, architecture, people, animals and food, where the true wealth lies is subjective, through pages upon pages of letters never sent to all the people in my life, repairing the circuits in all the fuses I've blown over the years, breakthroughs and epiphanies. I've ceased to search for things beyond and realized that I am that-which I seek. I have received advice over the years from Buddhist's, Catholics, Baptists, Hindi's, tarot card readers, psychics, reiki healers, yogis, a therapist, countless books and palm readers to name a few just to conclude that I am my greatest guru and healer. For the exception of myself, no one knows what is right for me. My personal journal where I write in a stream of consciousness differs greatly from my blog. Some experiences I have chose to take to my grave. Nothing will force you to live in the present moment like unplanned solo travel. Hopefully my soul has been cleansed in the oceans and rivers of which I swam in the most necessary of ways, such as my hideous taste in men and situations that rob me of my precious vitality. Surely only time will tell. Some days it feels as though I've lived lifetimes and others the past six months are mere memories, so dubious and improbable that I find difficult to acknowledge that I have once prevailed. New York has never before looked so vibrant and alive to me. I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this very moment. As I rest my weary head on my brothers couch in Brooklyn, drifting into slumber, I am content because now I certain that I was wearing the ruby slippers all along.