It took one year and three months this time.
That feeling is back, that feeling that I first tapped into when I was 15 or so. The feeling that here isn’t here any more, I’ve gotta move on. It hit again in college bringing me to Uganda, then again a few months later bringing me to Europe.
I wondered when it would hit next. It used to be every six months or so, which was convenient because I was in college. So making a fairly large change that frequently was pretty easy, I’d go from my mid-west college town and life to Wyoming. Where I could climb mountains and ride horses and spend too much time in shady mountain dive bars with cowboys and rodeo queens playing pool too late and too drunk. Or I could change my major, and change it again. Or pick up a new and random class that would light a fire in me about some cause; like the class that brought me to start this blog in the first place.
Well that feeling is back, I was worried about this day. I’ve established a life for myself, picking up and leaving isn’t that easy, not to mention I don’t really want to pick up and leave. I love the life I’ve made for myself here, I’ve never been happier.
So what do I do with this feeling? Where do I go with this? Because what I feel like doing is buying a plane ticket to some far off land packing a bag and moving there for a while, most likely just a few months until I get my fill and want to change again. Like reapplying for the Peace Corps, and this time going on my assignment.
I guess this is when I find another solution to feed this part of myself and maintain the life I’ve made here. What’s worse is this could be the call, the one saying wake up. The one that says it’s time to do more, to mean more, to be more. But that’s not worse, it’s just what’s next.
This is beautiful, this is happening now. What this really, really means, is that I’m ready to push myself again.