It’s strange feeling strung between worlds. My day-to-day life is Los Angeles, with its frothy beauty and dark magic and the inimitable quality that comes with an industry prefaced on dreams being spun into the real. It’s a city that felt like my native environment from the moment I moved, awash in multidimensional beings and people for whom art is as fundamental a need as shelter. My heart is stretched elsewhere, though, or at least for now every beat comes with the wistful echo of longing for my family. M and I talk every day, and the future continues to skip merrily toward us; still sometimes it takes everything I have to stay present and focused here rather than in the wholeness of a local reunion.
I’m going to be in Boulder next week, to visit Gaia and to spend time on MANTIS. Did I really leave Boulder seven years ago? It feels in some ways like a lifetime since I lived there, and in others as though it was just yesterday. So much of my time there was spent focusing on community and building community, both personally and as part of my work. It’s ironic that community was the last thing I was thinking about when I came to Los Angeles, yet without even trying the community that’s grown around me here is one of the warmest and most familial I’ve experienced in my life. One of the beautiful things about following one’s heart is that it connects you to others who are similarly guided, or who resonate with that sort of compass. It makes for good company.
Oh, Los Angeles. I have never felt so loved by a city, nor so deeply at home in one, nor inhabited one so aptly named. I suppose I should be grateful to have something to look forward to; otherwise I could not imagine feeling more content with life than I am now. I imagine that contentment is due as much to the sweetness that comes in the peaceful anticipation of the inevitable perfection of the future as it is the unexpected coziness of my home and humans here. I imagine that hearts are made to be stretched.