Betsy Soukup
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What I do want.

3/3/2015

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Big trees, dense woods.
Steady rain, thunderstorms.
A night in my tent, alone.
Silence, save for the sound of my breath.
A group meditation.
Five or more people making sounds for an hour.
Art that leaves me gasping for air.
Something I've never seen or heard before.
Something I've never felt before.
Hugs that feel like they'll never end.
Improvising with dancers.
A late night island adventure.
The sound of frogs.
Newness.
Risk-taking.
Listeners.
Movers and shakers.
The safe space keepers.
A clear stream.
Foggy mornings.
Gentle mists.
The rhythm of my feet, matching my counted breaths.
Your hand on mine.
Anything but the familiar.
Everything else.
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