La flor mas linda de mi querer

At home, an abundance of books and papers overlays the heavy furniture I inherited from my grandparents. A perfectly simple room, with one perfect object to meditate on, remains a dream until I step outside, onto the Plains. A tree. A butte. The sunrise. It always makes me wonder: What is enough? Are there enough trees here? As always, it seems that the more I can distinguish my true needs and my wants, the more I am shocked to realize how little is enough.

- Kathleen Norris
Dakota

Every day.
Every day--that's how often I think about leaving. About finally doing it, running away, going to the place that has my heart.
And every day I find a new excuse. Quite a bit of the time, it has to do with the "stuff" I am so used to. I like to pretend I'm not, but hey, this life is easy, right? I have two iPods. High speed internet. Fully stocked kitchen. Not enough room on the bookshelves for all my books. Unlimited access to Guitar Hero.
Can I really live without this? Do I really want to go somewhere where I wouldn't have all these freedoms, all this luxury, all the comforts of my life?

It seems it would be so difficult, so very very difficult, to surrender them--not temporarily but long-term.

But yet there's still this:
I can feel Nicaragua clawing at my brain

I don't remember where I read that quote. I don't remember who said it or in what context. All I know is that it applies. Every day, every day, every day Nicaragua is there, a presence, telling me that love is sometimes more than a person, that love is sometimes a place, and that even for all its flaws, failures and difficulties, I am not willing to give up on love.

And so maybe this quote that I began with is something to repeat.
The more I can distinguish
My true needs
and wants
The more I am shocked
To realize
How little is
Enough