Putting down roots in hard for a gypsy. I have managed to move every two to three years for my whole life. I am pro at creating events that “require” me to move (read: a not-my-fault set of circumstances that allows me to indulge my gypsy soul while still seeming normal).
Recently my sister located my fathers birth parents. It was weird. I felt emotions that I hadn’t experienced before. My entire extended family is all decidedly LDS, and I am decidedly not. My entire immediate family all struggle with the same gypsy tendencies I do, so we all float our own direction and sometimes cross paths. Feeling disconnected from my family was normal.
Our new-found Aunt sent a lovely care package. A family history book, a family recipe book, and a book she wrote. Apparently I come from a long genetic line of really bad-ass women.
Now my whole definition of family looked different. My inner beliefs about what I needed and wanted were suddenly insufficient. My being okay with feeling disconnected crumbled. I wanted – no, NEEDED to learn more, to connect, to touch souls. After a moment of panic, I did what any ‘normal’ person would do. I called my life coach aka, mentor, friend, pirate, Megan. We met for tea (cause she is cool like that). After much rambling on my part, she brought me clarity with one word.
Of course that immediately turned into fun as we decided that the title of my next project with her would be ‘Roots & Boots’. I had just bought some new ‘adventure’ boots for my upcoming Alabama move – cause a girl’s gotta be ready for anything life presents. Especially when it includes the potentially messy task of finding (or creating or growing) some roots.