Home is where your heart is, but your heart is afflicted. That strong wanderlust, coursing through your veins, calls you to be out doing, while your body is stuck just being, and so home never seems to be at hand.

I can’t say I know a cure, for my heart has a similar contraction, but the alleviation can be found quite close at hand. I find that until I have the means to satisfy that wanderlust, I must persevere and offer up little semblances of adventure to wet it’s thirst. It’s the little projects in life that keep us attached. The human connection and the physical labor.

Your heart has big plans for your future, and may well have the guts to pull it off, but the means aren’t yet in place. There’s still much for you to learn before you start such a journey, and that much more to learn along the way. So despair not of the present. It’s the infancy of something much greater, if only you can sate your heart till the real journey begins. Pack your bags and prepare for the trip. It’s going to be a bumpy road.