i want

other volunteers have told me that they have made lists of things they want to do in their lives post peace corps (we have a lot of time to sit in solitude and think), so i figured i should make a list too.  here it is:

I want to go there alone, and leave with family

I want to love you. And him. And her. And them. And me.

I want to learn how to cook, and not just cook, but create a masterpiece of delicacy with spices and sauces and peels adorning the walls—like a canvas dressed with flickers of paint that were flung with simultaneous consideration and carelessness

I want to spend all day in bed doing nothing but eating popcorn and drinking root beer floats

I want to swim in the sea, dressed in only the glistening reflection of the moon

I want to get lost in the forest until truth has been discovered, and the most welcoming of trees has been climbed, lifting me to the sky for a baptism of light

I want to find peace. Not in a far off ashram visited by the wise, but here, and now, in the most ordinary of times

I want to eat caramel apples and ride a Ferris wheel because it seems simple and pure

I want to dance in the streets of Havana, chant in the hills of the Himalayas, and eat a baguette in the shadows sprung from the Eiffel Tower’s noontime chat with the sun

I want to again untie myself with the passionate African soil

I want to learn languages. The language of the soul while being engulfed by the mighty Navajo temples of soil and rock, baked under a sun known for its’ gifts of guidance. The language of the mind while discussing philosophy and politics with strangers on a street corner café in Prague, under the Bedouin sky in Jordan, beside Banksy’s mark in Palestine, to the sound of beating drums in Ghana, while drifting down the Amazon.  The language of the heart while watching a baby take her first breath and a dying man say his last goodbye. 

I want to sleep on the street where prophecies are told and bottles are finished

I want to write a letter of love to a murder, a rapist, a sailor and a saint. 

I want a small place to call my own with walls plastered in memories and vibrant colors, inviting all who enter to smile

I want to bury a box full of secrets

I want to believe that romance and love are true

I want to know God and all that God is

I want to jump in a puddle of rain and stand with the Zebra amongst the soothing sound of melodious grasses preparing for the storm

I want to be in a tent during a storm knowing all that surrounds me is being showered with life, while I’m inside being nourished with warmth

I want to remember my dreams

I want to spend a day in the park. Just you and me and we can lie in the grass and name the clouds

I want to kiss a soldier, and I want to stand with the pacifists

I want to make a grumpy man laugh, and get a child to ask “why?”

I want to make love to the rhythmic dances of shooting stars and the redemptive cries of monsoon rains

I want to meet an alien, and visit the moon

I want to swim with creatures that have yet to be named, and speak to people whose tongues are distinctive and unknown

I want to reconcile brothers and tear down walls and build welcome signs along the borders people cross for the sake of their children who remain in the distant horizon

I want to pick flowers along the pond, and learn an ancient poets’ song

I want the palm readers to be right, and I want the critics to be wrong

I want to seek hope in the most destitute corners, and I want to challenge the norm in the most comfortable settings

I want the horses to roam free and the buffalo to be

I want to fly through the sky and float with the wind

I want to paint for no reason other than I like color and getting my hands dirty, and I want to play guitar without a care in the world that I’m tone def and haven’t got a tune

I want to road trip cross-country, living off the hospitality of strangers whose lives are far more complex than their neighbors may perceive, eating in diners filled with old-timers, smoke and coffee, visiting holy sites and bars, blue grass concerts and under ground dance battles

I want to live freely, but remain bound to what is right and just

I want to invite those without four walls into my home. And speaking of that, I want to be rich so they can each have a bed and meals until their strength is regained and they are ready to step outside the door again optimistic about the day

I wan to learn to create beauty everywhere I step, leaving saplings where my feet have walked

I want my students to prosper and defend themselves against the cruelties of corruption and wealth

I want to be here and there all at once

I want to live in the camps that have dehumanized so many worn out souls in the hopes I can help people remember they are a name, not a number; they are individuals, not a mass story on the nighttime news in a distant place they have only heard rumors of being true

I want to adopt a child whose parents are gone.  And I want to love that child and help that child grow and discover him/herself and what she/he believes to be true

I want to walk through the snow, the light fluffy snow that carpets the world with hope, smoking a black clove, until I reach the perfect balance of being cold and hot all at once, of reaching a state of internal peace while still being eager to work diligently until the wars are over.  Then I want to go inside and sit by the fire and fall asleep to the sound of another voice reading stories of foreign places and close neighbors

I want the world to treat each color equal, but never forgetting to recognize and celebrate the qualities of each hue

I want each girl to grow up knowing she is strong and beautiful and each boy to grow up knowing he is beautiful and strong

I want lifelong lovers and devoted partners to be free to marry, and I want exhausted wives to be able to divorce[1]

I want the polar bears to have ice, and I want the farmers to have water

I want to grow a garden in the middle of a city. A safe garden. A place for people to play and sit and think and talk and dream and wish.

I want to jump from a plane, falling without restraint, and once I reach that point of either realizing there is no need for answers and clarity, or realize I have the key and the chest with all the answers has always been mine, I will pull the chute and gracefully glide back to ground where I will be swaying in a field embraced by the sun, preferably with an ice cream cone in hand

I want to know something is true, and I want that truth to be good, and I want to believe in that truth, and I want to be a part of that truth

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[1] In the Philippines it is nearly impossible to get divorced, especially if initiated by a women, especially a poor women.