Tales of melody hunting, passionate coffee drinking and the constant process of homecoming

Hey Friend, 
Right now I am traveling accross this country called the United States, taking a trip I have known for a very long while that I need to take,  listening out for new songs and the answer to the question: "What on earth am I doing here?" (or perhaps it could be "What am I really doing on earth?" - if it did not sound slightly spacey...). Most of my writings here-in for the time being might well be inspired by my travels, and everything that one meets on the way, both in the outer and the inner. 
Which would be, could be, 
pretty much, 

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Dear Traveling Self, 

When you set out on the adventure of your life, 
you will feel all the exhilaration.  
You will look around and laugh out-loud because yes, you are actually here!   

You will feel gratitude and amazement.   
All the soft happy fuzzies.  
And in moments,   
you also will not.  

When you set out on the adventure of your life,  
in the midst of all that changing scenery,  
you may also,   
most likely will also:  

Be tired beyond belief.  

Find yourself somewhere you have always dreamt of being,  
and realise that you are suddenly missing that person you’ve done so well not longing for,  
an ache  strong like metal pliers.  

Be in the most incredible, lit-up-with-amazing city in the world,  
and have the only thing you want to do be stay in and sleep.  

Hear these words: “What the fuck am I doing here”, in your head, over and over, and over again.  

Loose your phone. Loose your wallet. Find them. Loose your jewellery.  
Be sure you packed a pare of socks, at least ONE pair of socks, but no, you have none.  
Loose your phone, again.  

Meet incredible people and then, having met so many incredible people, start to feel like you have over-chatted yourself so thoroughly, that you might not want to meet another incredible person ever again.   

Freak out about money.  

Feel swarmed with guilt about not being there for the ones you love as they are going through more than hard times. Face up to even more guilt as you realise that this indeed is a choice, that you could indeed turn back, but that you do still choose yourself and your journey instead of returning to be there for them.  

Feel lost.  

Feel confused.  

Have to say “excuse me” to the person who just sold you coffee three times in a row,  
because although you might have sworn that they spoke English here, you haven’t got a clue of what he said. In the end you just hand him a bunch of bills and smile nicely,  
hoping it is enough.  

Find yourself smiling nicely, yet perhaps just a little dumbly,  
quite a lot.   

You might, and most likely, you will.   

This all - is part of traveling.  
This all - is part of what you travel for. For if there is any self-kindness in you, you didn’t get on that train, that plane   
or jump in that car to get way from. You climbed in to get closer to.  

It is not that you ought to set out to find yourself.  
After all, you are not waiting for yourself hidden under a rock in the pavement in some distant - exotic city. 
At least, I would think, not likely.  
At least, I would hope not.  

But right now, it does seem to be true, that contrary to what may be popular belief,  
amongst the chaos and the transit and the movement and the amazement  
(and the weariness that quite often follows), as easy as it is to loose your wallet and your phone and your jewellery,  
it is actually quite hard to loose yourself.  
No matter how fast you drive or how far you fly,  
there you are, in all your complexities and hang-ups,  
insecurities and annoying habits that - come on! Who in their 30’s still bites her nails?   

There you are.   
Here you are.   

And amidst all the thousand new faces and places you meet,   
you will also meet yourself,   
worn down, travel weary,   
annoyed and fed-up,   
with only one-and-a-half fingernail left.   

And you may also  
let where you are be  
let how you are be  
and even   
and even  
let who you are be  

perfectly fine.