After trips like this, I realize my issue with my creativity at home.
At home, I’m always clean. Showered with deodorant. Food in the fridge. Bed sheets laundered and made. Thermostat where I want it.
Out in the world, there’s scarcity. No fridge always full of food. Showers are not a given every day. I have to search for the comforts if I feel they’re important. All of that has to be earned and that process is really fucking important if you want to actually appreciate any of it.
At home, I don’t have to earn it. So I take it for granted and get depressed when I forget how simple joy can be. My hairs a mess. I could use a shower. But my hearts open and burning with inspiration. I wake up in the morning with no clue where I’ll sleep that night but that’s never mattered. All that matters is what I find along the way.
My life only gets easier from here. So I do what I can to sleep in the dirt and shower in experience. To see what I can create with it.
At home, I have the luxury of wasting time. Out here, no time is wasted.
It’s all a part of your story.