Bridging Two Worlds

Which side should I choose to live on? The logs or the rocks? Both are strong and beautiful. (Click on any picture to see it enlarged.)

I feel as if I have each of my feet in different lands. As if I straddle a gently flowing stream, I stand with each foot on either side in decidedly dissimilar terrain. I’ve been doing this happily for quite a while. Although I look like I stand on one side or the other, I’m really on both most of the time. I am usually balanced this way, functioning in two disparate but beautiful, original worlds. Today, though, I’m tired.

These migrating geese caught the blaze of the sunset on their bodies. They straddle two different lands, but they do it one place at a time, migrating between.

These migrating geese caught the blaze of the sunset on their bodies. They straddle two different lands, but they do it one place at a time, migrating between.

Only one side calls my heart, and I’m ready to lose my balance, throwing myself to make a permanent home on the world that fulfills and nourishes me. I can visit the other side, but do I want to live there? What would that mean?

Barr Lake Bridge 1 CWMaybe I’m looking at this all wrong, and I should see what is right with this situation? Maybe it is an honor and a privilege to straddle two worlds, functioning in them both. Maybe I am a bridge, bringing something to both worlds that they couldn’t have alone. It is a lonely place to be. You never see a line of bridges, supporting each other, now do you? What does it mean to never stand solidly in one world? Am I always a foreigner, or do I always belong?

Butterfly White Black 1 CWMaybe I’m a butterfly, at home in the air, and on a leaf. Maybe I’m not so odd after all, and this is all about the introvert’s curse — I think about things way too much.