When I was eighteen, I left my Kansas hometown and fled to college in California with no plans of returning except to visit family. And when my family moved to California I had no reason to return.

And even now, when I think about what it would mean to live in the middle-American town I grew up in, I experience great distaste.

But recently I discovered some photos of various random locations around my old town, and I was struck with strong waves of nostalgia. No; it was something more than nostalgia.

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It’s been a long journey.

I started this blog in college, and it followed me as I threw the mainstream experience aside for my year in the woods. After that I met Abigail and went rambling a bit, running and working and trying to find a good fit for myself in this world, this life. I finally did find one and threw myself into my spiritual practice, into my relationship, and into my studies in Chinese medicine with all the passion I could muster.

Growing up, I always felt older than my peers. But now, as I approach thirty, I feel for the first time that I’m at about the right age. To me that means that I’m feeling more myself than ever before.

Always a good time for a turning point.

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