Sometimes a place will beckon you from every angle, tugging at your heart strings, and urging you to come back. Without even saying a word this location will whisper in your ear that it misses your footsteps upon its land. It can even makes its way into your mind, meticulously painting serene pictures of snow-covered peaks and long winding roads. This place, this sacred area of physical space, comforts you like an old friend, but also excites you like love at first sight. The sense of nostalgia creates a space for inspiration to be released like a butterfly unleashed from its cocoon. It’s a strange kind of occurrence, to be pulled like a magnet to a place where every inch of your body feels connected. You are connected to the earth, you are connected to the people, you are connected to the way of life. It’s extremely hard to resist the pull of this energy, and why would you want to? After all the body wants to go where the heart leads it. Each time you are to return home you are saddened with the thought of your wild, free, vivacious spirit left in the magnificent landscape of the west.
Some may define this occurrence as a sign of destiny. The first time I experienced this sensation after returning home from the Mile High City, I let the heartbreak run it’s course like a bad break up. I pushed my feelings of longing for the laid-back culture and glorious mountain views to the back of my brain. Back to reality I told myself. But it’s been years now, and the feeling has returned each time and every time I voyage to the sacred Rocky Mountains. However, my last visit to the natural terrain was the strongest I’ve ever experienced these signs. Somehow the voice in my ear became louder, the painting in my mind much more vivid, and the strings to my heart tightened. There was no denying it anymore, in the west I was the full expression of myself, set free of conformity and unleashed to mystery. I often think back to how the pioneers must’ve felt on the mission to discover the new territory. A barren land full of endless possibilities with an equal amount of obstacles to stumble upon along the way. But no one ever explored the great centennial state without first stepping outside of their comfort zone.
As I took one last look at the earthy tones of red rock framing the city of Denver on the horizon, my mind couldn’t conjure one single reason to turn around back to the east. As I gazed, I tried and tried but my love affair with the city clouded my vision. Ultimately the reality of responsibilities set in and my mind forced me to turn around. The decision to leave became easier when from the frosted hills and jagged mineral formations my favorite place told me I’d return in a different light next time.
When your compass whirls around in circles and then clearly lands to point in only one direction, do you follow the signs of the spirits or do you stick to the route you already know?
In the west I slowly feel myself step away from the path I know and lean toward the road less traveled. For me the signs are too apparent and the connection too strong to ignore any longer. Risks are opportunities for greatness and happiness is birthed from following your innate. I have to find a way to the west.