It’s Really Not.
6 February, 2012 § Leave a comment
For those of you that know me well(or at least well-ish), it’s pretty commonly shared knowledge that I never imagined I would be living in the US, let alone the great, wild, proud and brash state of Texas (Texas, for Pete’s sake…) today. “Shadowing Mother Teresa,” or “working at a halfway house in Chiang Mai,” or even simply “globe trotting, dang it!” have all been familiar phrases from my verbal cadre of responses to the “where do you envision yourself in the future?” question. I think I am the most shocked of all, therefore, that I continue to find my feet grounded on a path to, well, here. How do I reconcile a undeniable sense of rightness with where I am and what I’m doing right now with this ever present niggling itch to experience the world outside of my known compass? All these notions of calling and passions and vocation and discernment and stability and change and justdowhatyouwant — they constantly swirl, one over, another under, in tangled tracks within my head. Everyone seems to want to tell me stories of people who dream of traveling but then realize it’s just that — simply a dream — and are happy to give it up for another, “greater” good. “But,” I want to say, all red-faced and sputtering inside, “You don’t get it. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to settle for what is familiar or comfortable or sensible. It’s not just a dream that I carry; it’s part of the fabric of who I am.” Exploration of stories, cultures and colors within 44 states, 4 continents and 20 countries has only served to whet my appetite for more.
I don’t know anymore if I’m to go or to stay, and I don’t know how to pursue decision-making within the vastness of the what if combined with the rootedness of the be present, and I sure as heck don’t understand the equally truth-bearing implications behind sacrificing all and dreaming big and holding lightly and being who we are created to be (whatever that means, anyway) — but I guess in the end… well, maybe it’s not all really supposed to make perfect sense.
Ambiguity… indicates that the significance of the telling
doesn’t end with a single reading,
and delivers a compelling nudge to the reader that
he/she assist in the telling and the re-telling,
the continuing labor of meaning-making.
— Scott Cairns
All photos mine — North Africa, 2007