dérive (n.)lit. "drift"; a spontaneous journey where the traveller leaves their life behind for a time to let the spirit of the landscape and architecture attract and move them.

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Well hello there!

Welcome to this unique space where we can come together as travelers, moved by the internal and external landscape of this life .My hope is that this space inspires you, intrigues you, and ignites words of your own!

Thanks for stopping by!

SHE

SHE

This, she said, is how I will live my life

under the sun.

interlaced with laughter and trickling with uninhibited joy.

I will occupy many different shapes but my heart will remain unequivocally determined to find beauty within and without.

continually humming the tune of a nearby record & the rhythm of this one, wild life.

Never waiting.

Always living.

Hair, clothes, and heart tossed in the wind. Forever traveling without fear of being still in the midst of the storm.

Eyes searching searching searching. Like a tot seeing for the first time. Like a babe learning all over again.

When, she asks, will I arrive? Hopefully never.

This voyage is far too thrilling. 

How much pain, she asks, will it take for me to surrender the thrill? 

Never quite enough to stop her.

As she looks up into the clouds, into the stars, into the moon, and the relentless sky, she asks, why does the vast stir me up? Why does the great unknown bring up, indescribably, the only things that I know to be true?

life is a paradox and she doesn’t plan to figure it out.

As she looks around, the beauty takes her breath away.

It takes the breath right out of her lungs.

Tears come just as easily as a smile because she decided long ago that one isn’t better than the other. 

she knows, now, she doesn’t need much.

Her day is dripping with gratitude. Every turn, every word bringing the sweet sap of life and love.

In her mind there exists a sanctuary of memory. A chamber of recollection. Sometimes this is where she resides because sometimes she needs to remember. That sanctuary helps her remember. 

There is something so pleasing, she finds, about the morning. About daybreak. Something so alluring about breaking anew. About the blank canvas of a day unlived.

She closes her eyes to watch as it unfolds because this is better than any story. This is her living tale.

What if, she whispers, I make it grand? What if it is far better than anything I can imagine? Wouldn’t that be fun?

In the same breathe she knows. Livin is a gamble baby lovin is much the same.

It is worth it 10 times over.

She carries that with her. Each splendid step carries that conviction. That it is, indeed, worth it.

She wonders. 

She wonders when the flowers decided to bloom. When the tide decided to rise or the stone decided to polish.

She wonders what emotions are yet to be felt what experiences are yet to be lived what undone is yet to be done.

All the while she knows it is fine to wonder but maybe not to know

and then she settles in right where she is and knows this is the best place to be. Right here

and she whispers thank you.

She looks down at her hands, at her fingers and wonders who will hold them in her life. She softly smiles as she returns to the moments where she knew—

That connection is superior to understanding. That there are little moments of magic all the time and 90% of them are contained in embrace.

She’s a good girl who loves her mama, loves Jesus and America too. 

Free.

Fallin.

Her lips repeat these words and others too. She finds she is often repeating the words that make her feel alive.

She wonders if she repeats them because she hopes to always feel alive. She hopes to always feel—even if it isn’t easy. She realizes that easy isn’t one of her best companions. 

Now, she can rest knowing this is how it is suppose to be.

She can breathe a little deeper. 

She has decided, this is how she wants her life to be defined— by deep breathes.

Rachel

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Kristin Stockfisch

Kristin Stockfisch

Dis-ease: What do I "do"?

Dis-ease: What do I "do"?

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