I feel the spirit of a wanderer on me today. I think it's been here for quite some time.
On the mat this morning, I realized that I've been torn between feeling the need to move and the reality of staying. It might be easier if there was something compelling me to set down roots and make something here, something steady and permanent. I whined to my Favorite the other day that maybe I should be more like the people we know, people with "real", steady jobs who want to make babies and knit doilies and invest in 401K's.
I can't help feeling like this is an inherently female struggle. I'm sure that's not the case, but it seems to me that the men I know just aren't beset by the question of life choices that make them happy and life choices that make them comfortable. I'm not saying men have it easier because they don't have to make these kinds of choices; I'm saying that I don't know how many men think like this, what they should do versus what they want to do. I don't know how many of them feel this tension.
My Favorite and I are looking at ways to make plans: immediate, middle distance and long term. I get skittish about the things that I want to be true about my life and how they accommodate--or don't--those plans. Is it reasonable to plan for a life abroad for a month? Three? Six? Is it reasonable to consider completing a PhD program in the next ten years? Do I even want a PhD? Is it even reasonable to hope that this book I'm working on will actually get me any of the things I want (namely, a wider scope of recognition as a writer and enough leverage to contend for a teaching position on which I can earn a decent living)?
I feel plagued by uncertainty. I'm not depressed about it, but I feel very much like I'm walking through fog, and that it's quite difficult for me to tell what it is that I want, which is rare. Even in all of this, I don't want to send my roots deeper into the ground; I want to fly. But I just don't know how the skies are, or if I'm strong enough.
Blame it on the falling leaves.