One thing that’s hard about leaving for months at a time is that feeling that there is a lot to do. that sense of “maybe I’ll never be back!” that desire to squeeze in one last thing and to count down the opportunities to fit it in.
and it all has potential to make me a little crazy. As much as I want to just carry on, knowing that I won’t really remember or care if I got to do every little thing on my yearly America bucket list, things usually can’t help but get a little bit frantic.
More than ever before, I am motivated toward being and doing and seeing in a more active way. Rather than wanting to repeat beloved activities and have one last visit with old friends, I want to grab the last chance to do something new, to start a new habit, to build a new pattern. and all these new activities and interests and commitments are changing me. or maybe something else changed me and that’s what gives me the space for so much newness (I’m not sure) but the growth rate for the last few months in the states has been exponential.
I am observing a new sense of cool with the manic (rajasic, if you will) state of this period of the transition. While I used to relish in the frenzied nature of my relationship with this town (and the dramatic attraction and aversion its inhabitants have toward me), these days I am feeling surprisingly and uniquely disconnected from it.
So while the drama is there, and the love/hate potential is there, and the last opportunities for honest confessions of emotion are there (baring down and threatening to disrupt my cool) I don’t think I’m going to let the crazy creep in.
It’s good for a laugh, but not for a lifestyle.