Sunday, August 26, 2012

Getting Going

Lately I've been obsessed with purpose: why am I doing the things I'm doing, what do I hope to get out of them and what would be the end that will justify the means? For someone who has pursed life with such passion for all the years that have led up to this point I feel as if I'm floating aimlessly through a vast empty space. I have not ran out of passion. I'm not looking to change the world. I'm looking for something personal, whether tangible or not, good or bad, right or wrong, I need to have something I'm working towards at all times to keep me moving forward.

In the midst of confusion and uncertainty came a realization when I met Misha at Irvine. There are many thrills in life but none more comforting than being understood and cared for by someone who truly loves you. While I couldn't think of any specific reasons to go to Rochester I did have a small inkling that perhaps revisiting where I came from might help me to define where I am going. After traveling all over the world, Rochester is still the only place I know as home and the only place I want to be.

I hesitated for a couple of days. Finally I reminded myself, sometimes you just do things. We may not always know the reasons why we do the things we do. We may or may not discover it along the way. Sometimes the true reasons don't reveal themselves until years later when we're on a completely different track at a moment we least expected. We'd all be at a standstill if everything had to be planned out and rationalized ahead of time. And with that thought I hastily threw some mismatched clothes in the trunk and hopped onto the express way at 5:30pm on Saturday the 25th. I didn't know where I was going to stay or what I was going to do but I knew I would figure it out when I get there.

Driving helps me to sort through my thought. I felt good as soon as I got onto the road. Illinois and Indiana flew by. By the time I got to Ohio I had the distinct feeling of going home. The urge grew stronger as turned onto 90 past Cleveland. I felt like one of those migratory monarch butterflies driven by an instinctual desire to return to their roots. I arrived just over ten hours, making no stops on the way except once to refuel. Dan had left his front door open for me. I fell asleep knowing I have came home.

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