“What happens when the war no longer wants war?”

Do you think sometimes we rely too much on figuring out who we are before figuring out where we’re supposed to be that we forget to figure out where we’re supposed to be and let that help us figure out who we are?

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Pilot Rock in Pisgah 

Maybe sometimes we get so hell bent on being something, some image we have of ourselves from childhood, that we miss signs along the way. Maybe being too focused on “goals” and becoming our “dream selves” causes us to miss out on finding places where we thrive, and then letting that place develop who we are, even if it messes with who we think we should be.

Yea, this is getting involved.

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Old Pigeon Hiding from forks behind me.

The other day I rode up to the airstrip at DuPont. Its a beautiful view, one of my favorites here. Super easy to get to on a bike and super fun, I find myself there 3-4 times a week.
Anyhow, this year has been full of decisions, right? Big, scary ones. And I have to make choices, which means I have to choose things.

But I looked out at the mountains I call home now, and all I could feel, besides a little hunger for the energy gummies, was an overwhelming love for here. Before I could help it, I started saying to the mountains, “I choose you!”

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Got to watch my best friends go real fast at the Green Race

Because I’m choosing myself and these mountains over everything right now, and that is what is making me who I am becoming. And for the first time in a long time, I’m really into that person.

Who knew that Flat Rock/Saluda/The Green River/Pisgah is where I’m suppose to be? And who knew it was here all along? I’ve never felt more at home in a place, or been able to not leave a place. I had plans for Chile this winter, I had a Grand Canyon permit. I had it all planned out.

And yet the closer I got, the more I knew I couldn’t go.

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I couldn’t fathom leaving here. I’ve been struggling to find a way to explain how this feels, this sudden desire to stay somewhere and not run. There’s a quote by Nayyirah Waheed I really love: “What happens when the war no longer wants war?”

For my life like, I can paraphrase it to go like this: “What happens when the runner no longer wants to run?”

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Honestly, how can you leave something like this?

So I think what I’m doing is, for the first time in 28 years, I’m choosing myself and a place.

This place.

Home.

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