INFPs are idealists and dreamers. And when you're an idealist and a dreamer, much of your time is spent in your own head, reliving the past and anticipating the future. In your pocket is a collection of ten-second moments of beauty, from a week ago, two weeks, a month; and little words from snippets of conversations, the tiniest things that made your heart swell. You don't remember what came before or after, how you got there, but those moments you play again and again and you reshape and recolour and let it fly like a kite and watch it unfold in the sky.
The past couple of weeks away from home have honestly been pretty mundane. I haven't clicked that well with the other volunteers; I've had very little teaching opportunity, and I'm absolutely unable to communicate or click with the younger kids; I feel very much alone and alien in this place. It has really been the conversations with people back home keeping me alive. And when you're stuck in dull reality and the words on my screen from people back home are making you laugh, and you're a dreamer, you let your mind run, run, run behind and run forward all too fast. I have let it run dangerously, and it is time to pull the reins in. But at the same time, these dreams are so beautiful and how I would love to reach out at the future in my head and grasp it, course through time like a speeding motorbike, zipping through the highway with the mountain on our right and the endless blue sea on our left, the wind in our hair, chasing chasing -
but time will continue to keep its pace, sixty seconds and minute and sixty minutes an hour. It will continue to crawl as it pleases, and the days and the months will come in its time. Patience, to breathe in slow and deep and take in the present. Live in the moment for what it is, stop reaching for a mirage.