You're living out loud... but how's your heart?

“ I see you living out loud, my man, but how's your heart?” came the inbound Insta DM.

It's a good question, one I've been personally rolling through my mind, thinking about, feeling about.

On the one hand, it's freeeeee. Alive. Flowing. Aligned.

Cruising on a scooter through the North Vietnamese mountains, my heart clearly whispers “We need more.”

Boating through islands off the coast of Indonesia, multiple days away from technological distractions, my heart feels connected, to myself, to the world, to a feeling of home.

My mom messaged me, “Home is where your story started.”

Home is also here now.

Home is here at the hostel eating banana pancakes, black ink scrolling across the unlined white pages…

Home is here at the coffee shop, tapping away at the keyboard, trying to tap back into work mode…

Here in the water, here on the mountain, here on the scooter, here, now…

I could be anywhere in the world, all of them home, kinda.

On the other hand, my heart kind of hurts. No, not for that reason. No, she doesn't hurt.

Other she's hurt a bit more, missed connections but still no missed flights.

“I got my heart on my sleeve with a knife in my back. What's with that?”

She hurt(s) a little bit but my 22-year-old therapists from the boat to the hostel helped talk it out. Now two weeks later, it’s just a funny story.

My new friends, perfect strangers, are fun, worldly, energized and they really stir my youthfulness, somehow dissipating our age gap which seemingly goes unnoticed, except for the moments when it doesn’t.

Lately, I’m cultivating this feeling of “out there”.

It’s the opposite of the “right here” that I was solidifying over the last two relationships back home.

I’m veering away from that direction, because why not, when I can, and I want to, so I’ll keep pursuing the far out there, while I still can.

“I’m not on vacation, fyi” I type into my notepad.

This road is not without its difficulties.

New friends repeatedly leaving, exchanging pieces of our lives, the impact of which only time will tell. Some hurt more than other.

I’m just a mosaic of people I’ve met, here and there, for short or long.

I’d like to think I’m the traveler people will remember down the road:

“Remember that one guy who ran his own business, who shared interesting ideas but more often than talking he just asked good questions and listened. Plus, he had a drone. And he gave me a sticker that I still have on my laptop. He was a character, wonder what he’s doing now?”

Maybe we’ll cross paths again down the road…

“So how's my heart?” when I’m alone, feeling how I feel?

The rush of stimulation, incredible views and adventurous activities can be a distraction from this question.

Go mode, fully engaged, fuels my soul but it can also overpower the human being-ness.

A tough balance: I feel so at home in both.

That’s why I journal.

That’s why I wander.

That’s why I breathe (though not as much as I need and want to, now).

My heart, writing this now and editing it weeks later, is almost fully charged, almost fully positive.

Yes, there’s some loneliness, distance from people I tell “I love you” on FaceTime across 13 hours of time zones.

There’s uncertainty, longing and questioning… but these are not subtractions.

A few distractions, sure, the road is filled with shiny objects, but I’m trying to minimize those because:

I went to feel more.

Breath. Heartbeat. Soften.

“How does it feel to be me right now?”

It feels enough and it feels like more.

Not out there, but in here, so that I can keep visiting out there.

Here’s the original story, written during a spur of creative inspiration at a hostel in Labuan Bajo, Indonesia. The digital version was rewritten and edited but wanted to also share the original.