Behind the mountains to the East there are more mountains, and behind those, when the 15 bends around the air force base, for a moment you can see them. Rocky, dusty white peaks, brushing the clouds. They look lonely and far away, and they make me want to touch them.
Pictures and peeks into places I've never been make me ache to explore. Photographs frustrate because I can't feel the sunlight and smell the air. Those mountains make me want to dive into the barren southern Californian wilderness, and drink in the wild beauty. The otherworldness. The emptiness.
But I'm here, the artificial noise of the freeway pushing into my ears, the music turned up (pushing back), and buildings crowding against each other in the spaces between the fields of asphalt and concrete. I'm restless. How was it possible, just a few weeks ago, for me to be tired of change?
A sea to ride off on, a wilderness to get lost in, a mountain to climb up on. Anything! The songs and the stories press out against my ribs, nearly breaking my heart, but I can't hear their voices. I feel so full, and I feel like I could never have enough. I cherish this restlessness; the storms in my soul. I cherish the days I can feel fire and beauty and truth pouring out of my eyes; and I cherish the Maker that filled me with this spirit that feels too big for my skin, and who seeds my thoughts with greatness.