At some point, one must feel like he has
taken in so much.
And I have.
I sat on my filthy sofa, and thought, I should be doing some cleaning today, but that I should also give myself a pass for just not minding anything, not even the leaky faucet in the bathroom. It must have been the general feeling of exhaustion, the slight fever and the headache that got me weeping like a drunk, but why did I whisper, "I am really tired. I want to go home."?
Decades ago, I set out to find adventures and build on a dream, but I have never stopped. I have kept chasing something, and though I had no idea what it was, I kept going, hoping that somewhere along the way, I would figure it out. 35 years later, I am still on the chase, and I still have not figured it out either. So clearly, either I have missed it, or that I have yet to get at a destination. Or that, scary as it may be, it will never come.
Since the time I said good-bye to my family and start being on my own, I have been at it. Never stopping. Just pushing. Sure, I took some days or even months off to cool down and recharge, but with the idea, that I would be back at it. And I was. Still am.
Now that, for the first time, I am not ashamed to admit being exhausted, I have realized that I have no idea about the place I am trying to be at, and mostly because I have never decided what this destination will look like. I might have already passed it, and not recognize it.What a shame it would be to have missed the chance of feeling relief and rested.
It's like hearing the sound of a starting pistol going off, then you sprint as fast as you could as everyone else put on their game face and frantically try hard to be one of the first or, at least, not be one of the pack in the back, but I have never asked where the race is heading, and when do we stop.
Whatever it is, now is a moment to decide.
Where am I really going?
What am I trying to accomplish?
