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If you happen to stumble upon a wanderer,

Unlock the door and welcome them in,

But do so


That they are only there to rest their feet.

Don’t offer to unpack their bags,


Fill them to the brim

And leave them by the backdoor

Uncluttered and easy to reach

Stoke the fire,

Put the kettle on

And guard your heart

It’s passion that nurtures the unsettled

Embrace them for the moment,

Delight in their tales

Commit them to memory

When the sun rises

They will be gone

A bag full of hearts

A soul bursting with restlessness

You are incredibly richer

And devastatingly poorer


For years I traveled state to state for work— it was a true planes trains, and automobiles life—. I traveled to help, to celebrate, and to necessitate change in order to create a different mood. I was a creator of relationship, ambassador of change and a light through a dark tunnel for many companies in crisis. All this means is that I gave a lot of my energy body — many times I was left depleted.

There were also many times where someone crossed my path who was my beacon of light— they were kind generous and compassionate and I fell in love with their nature — this person was generally someone I met at the end of my week long stay— when I was feeling tired cranky and flat. It was a moment where I felt supported and seen. In my 20s I mirrored this innocent exchange as much more than was intended — or exactly as intended and drank in the essence of the person until I was fed and satisfied. I had to learn hard lessons of attention and what I was lacking was not always what I needed— so many times each of us felt used. I feel as though as a culture we are so starved for kindness, generosity and compassion— so starved that even casual attention feels fated, and pure and right. When really it’s just kindness of one human to another.

As I navigated through the web of life I found great peacefulness in these encounters— and I realized that when people come together in vulnerability a love of each other happens that can be so incredibly deep even if it lasts 2 days. Many of these angels that I met along my 20 years of travel have remained buoyant in my life— we check in with each other mirror love to each other and wander on into our lives. There’s a patchwork of community that has quilted itself into my life— and I’m better for it.

I’m eternally grateful at the love packed into my pack— my heart has been filled many times— and I will always pack love into a wanderers pack— it reminds me that love takes many forms.


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