By Evangeline Ford, TIWP Student
Can you feel the emptiness—the roads that once were busy, the schools that were once filled with life?
Anybody who ever claimed to love the word is now being challenged, both in will power and in their ability to love the world when they can’t see it.
Find your passion, I was told. But what if my passion is adventure? Then, smother it.
Somebody once told me, “good luck” on one of my adventures. I didn’t know her. I’d never seen her before, never met her. And yet, when I passed her, she whispered to me, “good luck.” I didn’t know why.
Each step I took made me more afraid. What was she warning me about? Every noise scared me. Can the leaves stop rustling? As I walked, a little voice in my head told me to take all my worries and push them aside. Lord knows why she told me “good luck.” I still don’t know. But soon I discovered something. Adventure lay in the trees, in the songs you listened to while walking down a mundane street.
Adventure finds those who seek it out.
For me, my adventure first came in the form of a hidden forest. I loved that forest. It was filled with magic. It was swirling with a life and vigor that was missing from where I usually found so much light and life. I sang there. I danced there.
I think my next adventure was people. New, old. They took me on their own adventure. They brought me into where they found their life and vigor.
I think my new adventure is here. In the little shops, in the people I may never talk to, in the women standing on the corner, smoking a cigarette, and in the wonderful beauty of how people take a capitalist disaster and they throw their own life and vigor into it.