The Long Way Home

Mankind have a strong attachment to the habitations to which they have been accustomed...their affection for their old dwellings, and the terrour of a general change, keep them at home. Thus, we see many of the finest spots in the world thinly inhabited, and many rugged spots well inhabited.

~Samuel Johnson

I admire people who change. I strive to be one of those people--not one unreliable, though that may indeed come with the territory--but one of those people to whom nothing is bound, or rather, one of those people who are bound to nothing except the certainty of their vagabond intution. Yes, I admire the homeless: those who are not terrified of leaving their "old dwellings," of having nowhere to return to, of no definite destination.

I am not advocating a selfish, irresponsible life and I am not condemning home-owners. If I had a child or an ailing relative or some yet unimagined duty to respect, my priorities would naturally shift. I admire people who sacrifice their desires out of duty, and no doubt, I will be one of those people someday (except perhaps, a homeowner). Rather, I am thankful for not yet knowing those duties--yes, for myself , but also for those who will be bound to me, and for those to whom I will be bound. And, I am completely aware of my fortune to be free and thus I merely admire freedom when I see it being seized and savored to its full capcity.

When I was in grad school, I was even freer--financially anyway. It was one of the most precious and simplest times in my life, and my hindsight is bronzed. Whenever my then sweetheart would drive us anywhere--to the grocery store, to the movies, to school--he'd go the long-way. I'd protest, frustrated by his shy, smug commitment to savoring the journey and drawing it out because he could--we could. I however, only thought about the destination and how the long-way took us further from it. In all my freedom then, I was always running "home" and missing the sound of the moment, the sound of change happening all around us--a realization I came to only after our lives went different long-ways.

Now I see every long-way as an opportunity to change, an opportunity to learn the voice of my own instinct and my uncompromised desires--what I can become as a result of hearing and heeding it. This voice which always speaks but is not often heard or heeded is a gift I am grateful for every day. And I believe that by changing, by not growing content or accustomed, by not being attached to a notion of home (or a definite destination) we can fully discover who we are, while we may.