5/21/2017 0 Comments my wildflowersI have been trying to write these words all day long but I am doing a splendid job finding other ways to pretend like I'm doing something better with my time. I'm scared to write. I don't like goodbyes even if I've gotten exceptionally good at them.. and written words feel like solidifying my departure. I have had to say goodbye almost every day to friends for the past seven months. I'm sitting in the airport in Warsaw waiting to board my flights on my way back to the United States after spending 6 months in Asia, and 3 weeks in Europe. In ways it has become harder for me to say goodbye to a country, a place, an experience than to people. If Experience was a person, I'd have him standing just in front of me, softly kissing him on both cheeks, wrapping him up in my arms, and just thank him for joining me on this big, beautiful life adventure we're on together. I'm so grateful, but i'm aching too. It's silly because this is not just something that vanishes into thin air. In every moment, Experience sits next to me, holds my hand, and nods its head while watching me grow. He always tells me to keep on going. Experience doesn't leave me when I leave a country. He will follow me back home when I greet my family at the airport and snuggle up in my own bed when I don't have to think of which city I'll be sleeping in each night. He'll be giggling when my little brothers wake me up too early in the morning all they want are hugs and kisses and tickle fights and going on bike rides, along with dance parties and pillow fights in my bedroom. He'll be pushing me to keep things going after my days become routine and I'm antsy enough to jump out of my own skin. He'll take shotgun each night when I drive out to the endless waves of wheat fields as I watch the sun set into a hundred different colors while my favorite songs blast through the open windows of my car as I drive down the long, empty country roads. Experience will board the plane with me when I set up my new life in Amsterdam. ☼ I hold tightly because I want to keep this magic of this experience ongoing within me. I feel wildflowers growing inside me. Some are still sprouting, while others are just beginning to bloom. Now they are beginning to take their deep colors and their own sweet smell. I'm afraid to leave because I think it's the environment I've been in that has let me grow them. But, holding on tight is just as straining. All I can do now is to trust in my flowers' ability to grow in different spaces. So, I write so I don't forget. I write to keep them blooming. I want to remember the personality of each country; the smells and the noises, the hearts of people who have touched me, the taste of the food, the colors of the streets. Washing my clothes in the sink of a hostel, and my excitement when I knew I wouldn't have to take a cold bucket shower. Store owners welcoming me back to their place for a chai. Squealing on the back of a motorbike. Sunrises over a thousand temples. Loving strangers and falling into cultures. Hitchhiking alone halfway across a country. Meeting people who share the same soul. Finding myself sleeping in the homes of people I don't know. Trust. Waking up to the mountains, reading on the roof, journaling on 18 hour train rides, and my toes in the Indian ocean. The unbelievable amount of love I hold in my heart and the warm kind of gratitude that melts inside of me. I just get scared I'll stop growing and I hate to say goodbye because this is the end of such an important chapter; with the boldest colors, loudest noises, and the most heart-wrenching pain and numbing inspiration. But I can't help but feel so lucky to have stories like this that make it difficult to turn the page. ☼ I was sitting in a cafe in London a few weeks ago where a Brazilian man and I started to chat. After some time, he asked me what the most important thing I learned during my time in Asia was. I laughed and simply told him, "That I know nothing" He smiled and understood. I really used to think I knew something. At least something. But in each country I go to I live out an experience so completely different from itself and find people within cultures I could sometimes not even place my finger on. This never stops slapping me in the face. Nope, I'm wide-eyed in amazement as this continuously happens. It feels so silly to think that it would get easier. Like doing your time in one country would give you some kind of advancement in knowing another. That's just not the way it works. Every time I have somewhat of an idea of what's going around me is when confusion arrives, knocking on my door yet again. This usually happens as soon as I feel like I have some kind of grasp on the things around me. But I arrive to an unknown city and I'm disoriented, looking for a place to sleep, and curiously watching those surrounding me. I listen to the way this new language sounds rolling off their lips. What currency I need to convert to. I am trying to distinguish what is the appropriate way to dress. Behaviors. City names and languages and customs and food and history; names of political leaders, musicians, authors and philosophers. How to say hello and thank you and beautiful. It reminds me that knowledge and experience is never-ending. And this is what India showed me, too. Because, the more places I had been in to in this country, the more I realized I haven't seen anything. And the more I know, I understand I know nothing. This realization is the sweetest honey. This is not discouraging. No, this is curiosity and excitement wrapped up in the happiest little bundle. It makes me want to dip deep into the depths of humanity. It's encouraged me to start where I am. It makes me more silent so I can really start listening. And boy oh boy, it makes me in love with the world around me like never before. But this wasn't and isn't an easy path to walk in order to get here, or to stay here. In fact, it has made me ravishingly aware of my weaknesses. This part has been particularly hard. To love and accept my weaknesses as a part of who I am; making peace with the not-so-beautiful parts of who I am is not an easy trail to walk. Let me tell you something; the things you're trying to run away from with catch up with you anywhere in the world. Even a remote village in Northern Thailand, Meditation centers in Myanmar, and cute little juice bars in bustling Kuala Lumpur. There was so much I was trying to escape. But honoring my light and dark, I have found, this is where I must start in order to become a better, truer, kinder person. A person of honesty- a person of truth. Being honest and true first requires being honest and true with myself. Everyone in the history of mankind understand we're not perfect beings, so I'm starting with the only thing I have control over, Me. Johanna Marie Patton. This is why I knew I needed to go. I felt myself becoming stagnant in my ways. Growth doesn't happen from being comfortable. And this is why I make a conscious effort to share my struggles, not just the sunny moments in my life. I never want to give off the impression my life is perfect because it absolutely is not. What's more boring than perfection, anyways? But there is something that is especially special. It's that going through these struggles amplifies my love because in so many ways I, for lack of a more flowery way to express myself- so freaking grateful to be here. I'm oozing with love. I have been given everything I could ever dream of; both good moments and bad. I've learned from every single one of these experiences which brings me back to: I know nothing. But I am wrapping myself up in this humbling thought every day. I am reminding myself to be quiet. To open my eyes and my ears and my heart to what Experience has to offer me each day. I have already seen so much goodness. I have learned from every single person I have met around the world. I have seen unconditional love and I have seen light far greater than any darkness. And let me tell you something else, it makes it terribly difficult to be anything less than passionate. I am learning and I am growing and I am constantly, consistently becoming the next version of myself by honoring who I am today. And tomorrow. And all the days after that. And it feels so silly about things coming to an end, because this is only ever the beginning. ☼
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The adventures of a wildflower
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