for a long time now, i've worked towards the specific goal of recognition for my work. maybe it was the idea of fame that struck me as so fantastic: the idea that i could really stand out in a sea of people, that i could become a household name, and that i could mix, mingle and commiserate with the most brilliant minds of our time. maybe it was the idea that i wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. or maybe it was really just my mom, saying to me with a sparkly kind of pride in her eyes, "you're gonna be famous someday." deep in my heart, there's something in me that won't ever let myself let that woman down, and so i tried and tried, running myself ragged in an attempt to become someone i knew nothing about.

well, somewhere along the freeway north, driving that uhaul full of my belongings towards exit 231, my lofty aspirations got left behind at a rest stop near marysville. here and now, away from the city that churns with ambition, i've re-prioritized. i'm now concerned more with my health, and a routine that feels safe and constant as the northern star. i'm concerned with the seasons, and the cycles of the moon, and fresh organic food grown by the hands of my neighbors. i'm concerned with my community, my new family, which is seemingly growing larger by the day. this new kind of recognition, it's salty like the earth, and tastes like home. and now i know, that's what i was looking for all along

Most people would succeed in small things, if they were not troubled with great ambitions.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Table-Talk (1857)

(today's musical muse: sera cahoone)

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