Nothingness is Everything. Unmanifest while at the same time, it is absolute potential.

I feel like I am in a gap right now. I have had dreams of being suspended in nothingness, millions of light-years from the nearest piece of space debris or the stars scattered all around me. They look close, I feel part of them and they are connected to me and everything somehow, and I have a sense of belonging without question, but they are so far away at the same time. There is just silence and nothingness. Other dreams of falling through pitch black, that feeling of a falling elevator, with nothing under my feet and with no end, until I wake up.

I don’t feel attached to anything that could really ground me. The only person who I have met on these travels who could possibly change that is not attached to anything either. Even less so. He has no laptop like I have. No worldly belongings he is attached to that he would be phased if they were suddenly gone, and no home. Just his rescued puppygirl, a few clothes, an old heavy hammock that other people often fall asleep in before he can, and an old ipod shuffle with a broken earbud. I got him new ones but he uses it out of kindness because I noticed he still only uses one earbud. I admire this man so much. He is a courageous, Brazilian, solo land traveller, not phased by these feelings of uncertainty that I have, about home, about what happens next. He’s not worried about anything. Only by my eventual departure from Ometepe Island, which has surprisingly become a point of anxiety for someone so habitually unattached. Something we don’t talk about as its an impossible subject I can’t seem to budge on.

Without a homebase of some kind, a place to go to unpack my bags, put the books on the shelf before the next journey, or have christmas at moms, it amplifies this strange floaty feeling. There is no end. I can’t feel an end to this travelling. The only roots I’ve grown are to my ancestors and to the soily planet every time I kick off these sandals. Which is a gorgeous feeling. But with absolute freedom comes other absolutes, that can be quite unnerving, and the idea of commitment of any kind, has become a dangerous stranger. I can’t imagine how I was so incredibly willing to fall into it so easily before.

There is only potential. A potential homebase between travels. A potential tree house, shared with my potential love. With potential overflowing bookcases, and a flourishing medicinal garden. My long-travelling rabbit-hunting black cat, a white dog, a kitchen. Our own kitchen to invent and share food with love. Maybe. Some day.

But for now, there is no hint of what lies ahead as far as these dreams go. Except that I trust, it will be amazing. It always is.