Miles to go
2009 06 20 | journal
I like to travel, to see new places (and old ones), to experience them, to enjoy the novelty of not being home and seeing a life that’s different from the one I’m used to.
I am not, however, a nomad. I could not live out of a suitcase. I could not be the person who lives unsettled and without a plan, or a home. I need a stable base. I could be away from it months at a time, but I need to know that there is a place for me to go back to whenever I need it.
It’s not fear, not precisely. I just like security. I cannot be a will-o-the-wisp on the wind; bouncing from marsh to marsh.
My mother is one of those who is more of a "we’ll figure something out when the time is right/later/neede/etc". I can’t do that either. I need a path of some kind. It doesn’t have to be exact, precise, or complete; it just needs to exist. I do not know how she can live hoping that things will just fall into place when the universe deems them to. She also seems somewhat more at peace with having to move around a lot; which I think was borne of necessity rather than desire, but who knows? There are plenty of people who live for the nomadic life, and those who never leave home. I think the same reasons apply for why people do either - fear, desire, necessity and opportunity.
They leave because they fear to stay
They stay because they fear to leave
They desire the new
They desire the known
They cannot stay
They are bound to stay
They have no chance to leave
They have no way to remain