That return to that period in that past you share with those people. In other words, a collective visit to a shared history.

But what of that personal journey to You. That journey more intense than any other. That journey deeper than any, more local, more demanding. That journey we all want to take. That journey few of us ever take. But you haven't escaped the longing. That annoying scratch somewhere at the bottom of your rib cage. Like the push of the wild bird longing for freedom. Like the pull of those climbers ever so eager to escape the garden wall and stretch, smile lazily into the unknowable void beyond. It's like that inexplicable longing to run your hands through the folds of the springs that runs in the woods. You know you'll get wet. But you put your hands in anyway, just to find out!

Standing before that full length mirror, you see my face- dark. I search my face, look closely. Smile. All I see is the little space between my front upper teeth. Of course! This is not me, I realize. None of the brilliance, resilience or softness do I see. Me is bigger than the light from this mirror. Me isn't tall, dark. Me isn't this growing man whose picture I just can't memorize. Whose face has startled me from the days of earliest memory.

But I choose to let this bird loose. Out into the open. Perhaps in flight, wings spread, the wind my sail, and the world small, below me. Perhaps I'll just squeeze out from within. Perhaps I'll find my way out. Blind to limitations, I might find my way back home. Oblivious to the experience written by the books for navigation, I just might get my coordinates right. And I'll get it right. Heart over head. Limits, fears, doubts, regrets, and a good deal of common sense has kept me away from me. But I choose to be free. Free to dream. Free to be unrealistic. Free to be optimistic. Free to fly high above the world. In the words of the Wise Book, "evening and morning were the first day." Evening first, then morning. Dream first, then reality. Within first, then without. I choose to lose the confines of this warm, secure garden. I choose to explore, to conquer. I choose to reign. I choose to come home- to myself.

My homecoming; our homecoming. It isn't discovering or rediscovering ourselves. It's finding out the caged bird isn't the one inside, that free spirit. It is finding out it's the you outside that is caged. It isn't finding and following your dreams. It's letting your dreams find you, then being courageous enough to follow them wherever they lead. It's letting the You find you...

And when you have found that rhythm that is unique to you, fold up your legs, stretch out your faces and dance to it. When you finally allow that stream flowing from within envelope you, stretch out your fins, let that stream become a river. Be courageous enough to drown in it. Let it carry you to that place where rhythm and song, rhyme and verse are subliminal, seamless, speech.

Global Scriggler.DomainModel.Publication.Visibility
There's more where that came from!