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We are each an angel with only one wing

October 3, 2008

“All I mind’s losing you.”

As I drive over the rocky divide between Ashland and Lame Deer in the late afternoon sunlight, I listen to the words of this John Butler song.  “There’s nothing this life owes me / I’ve been given more than I can receive.”

I’ve experienced phenomenal good fortune during my short lifetime.  I was born into a loving, financially stable family; I was afforded an excellent education; I have friends and contacts all over the world; I’ve never gone hungry or without heat; any number of employers would fight over my resume.  I shouldn’t have the right to ask for more.

But even as I look at the poverty and insecurity around me, I know I would forsake all of my blessings for one sole exchange:  an end to loneliness.

Life’s blessings are almost always bittersweet.  I landed here in southeastern Montana to escape the middle-class world I was born into, to rekindle my passion for social justice, whose flames are now burning bright.  Eagerness swells inside of me when I arise from my bed every morning, and excitement drives my days.  But at night, a profound feeling of emptiness overcomes me.  I have no human outlet through which to channel my love, so it surges inside my stomach and settles down in my gut as I sit down to another meal, another night alone.

There’s a difference between solitude and loneliness.  I will always be a solitary person, a woman who needs space and time to herself.  But I crave connection.  I crave sharing with others the deep thoughts that come to me in my moments alone and hearing in return, “yes, me too – that’s how I feel as well.”  I crave touch:  hugs, my fingers on a man’s cheek, his chest, a hand running through my hair, down my hips. 

And my family.  I miss them, but I choose not to return home.  I head farther and farther west, after the same yearning for discovery that led Lewis and Clark across the ridges and valleys I now traverse.  For me, the roads were paved, but I didn’t want to take them.  Graduate school, an ample salary, security, all were what society planned for me.  I was meant to work, make money, marry, and consume.  And consume and consume.

But I want something different.  I want something that few people want, so I pursue it alone.  I want a life I wasn’t born into, a life with little luxury, little wealth, with a slow pace, with mornings and evenings I can enjoy in silence or in laughter but not in a hurry.  A life whose material voids are filled with an undying love for the sun, the stars, the moon, the earth, and for the people around me. 

I’ve found the first part of that life here in Montana, the slow, enjoyable mornings and evenings, the lack of luxuries, the intimate connection with nature, and for that I am happy.  I feel renewed, refreshed, like me.

But like me, I continue to feel lonely, so my feet may not land here for long.  Oh how they would like to, though.  To walk out on the sun rising over the ridges in the mornings, cool and crisp no matter the time of year.  To watch the moonlight illuminate the landscape, making it appear as bright as the moon itself.  To drive to the Rockies on the weekends and work a meaningful job during the weekdays.  To feel free from the clamor of the coasts.

Oh how I would love to continue to live under a sky big enough to encompass my love and to encourage my dreams.

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One Comment
  1. Your words, thoughts, and emotions are reaching at least a few hearts and minds I know this to be true.  Every time I read your latest post or musing I want to reach out thru my computer to share an evening meal, some conversation about the day, and some space with you.  You are not alone but I do understand your lonliness at day’s end.  And I also understand your heart’s desire for a path off the one assigned.  You are making life happen and you are in it’s current and I am really proud to know this woman and call her my friend.  I raise a toast to you Cori.  Continue on and all will be provided.
    Love Ya!
    Kristian

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