I'm sitting on my bed, if you can call it that, on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. And just now, I decided to start writing again. I've decided not to advertise that I am writing, but instead let people find it, if they do, and if not, that's okay too. But for now, this blog is for me. It's my private diary, in a way, made public. It's me being as honest as I can to myself, but keeping myself in check, still diving into reasons I might not share. This is my life, again, as best as I can record it, in only the ways I want it recorded. This time it will be for me.
I've been reading a book about "Buddhist Psychology" given to me by Margo, my ex-girlfriend's mother, after finishing Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol yesterday. I chose to spend this Christmas alone, and believe me, it's lonely. I think, in the end, I'm fundamentally lonely. I question why I've done so much separation lately, and I think it's because I don't feel like I fit in and I feel weak. With the combination of the two, I don't follow myself, but instead lose myself and follow others.
I think I did a good job of that in Costa Rica, eventually being too distant from myself to even enjoy the sunset without thinking about what people were thinking about me at that time. I drank more and more, surfed more and more, and frankly had a great time - but didn't connect with myself.
And I started waiting. I sat by idly, positive that the next "it" would come along and sweep me off of my feet. But it didn't.
And so I waited. I kept options open. I came back to Oklahoma for the wedding, and brought all of my stuff, but left Jake. I wanted to be ready when "it" came. I kept moving - horseback riding in Moab and Aspen; hanging with Kris in Denver; a weekend trip to see my beloved friends in San Francisco. But it didn't come.
In San Francisco I finally decided to move back to Costa. It had been far too long since I had seen Jake, and the states were getting colder. I wasn't welcome anymore where I had been staying, rightfully so. I hadn't started working. And damnit, I missed the surf. I missed my Costa Rican family. At the very least, in Costa people don't judge. They are generally all just wonderful and supportive. And as long as I was waiting for "it," I might as well be surrounded by love and waves.
But something was missing. I'd been waiting at this point for perhaps five months, and nothing. Now, I had had some amazing adventures: Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Colorado, California, Oklahoma - mountains and beaches, snow and surf. But it was all just killing time. It was all just waiting until it came around. And in the meantime, waiting for Hazel to be born, and for Christmas to come around. All waiting.
And then Megan found out I had planned on moving back to Costa. Before I could buy my return ticket, she forced me in the car to go to Doug's office so she could sign some papers. It took the two of them in Doug's conference room for me to realize - I found it.
It was right here. It is right here. I had just been to blind to see! My purpose, my meaning in life, my everything was right here before my eyes! So simple! It is...
Wait... Taking a step back, the biggest part of my problem was not that I was lazy - certainly my life's adventures showed I was willing to get up off of my ass. No, my biggest "problem" was that I could find no reason to do anything. In a way, my journey had taken away all purpose, all meaningfulness. I now no longer saw "good" and "bad" - I just saw things as they were. I definitely saw suffering, but it was far beyond me how I could alleviate it, and if I could, whether that was a worthwhile endeavor. I knew I had found nothing worth teaching, because what I had actually found was just that - nothing.
And so I had become, well, dormant. Nothing mattered, so why should I do anything?
But then it hit me. When faced with no meaning in life, when faced with no purpose, there are two roads. The first, which I had been on, is to despair. To sit idly and stare at the world. Wait. Which was horrible. But in that little office, it hit me. In a way, what I had been waiting for came. It.
Purpose. Meaning. Life. It.
So simple! And here it is. Without it, there can be no other purpose, no other meaning, no other reason for living than to search for it. It, for me, right now, simply put, is the search for it.
Oh, but don't think for a second I need to find it! Because I already have. I don't need to find anything, because it's right here. But what I do need to do is search. Because the search is my purpose.
Perhaps some day that purpose will change. Perhaps I will find another it in this search. And when I do, this it will become the it of the past. Perhaps not. Perhaps I will confine myself to the search for it for the rest of my life. And that will be wonderful too.
And so I sit. Alone. On this unmade bed with Jake on the floor by my side. Many have asked if I have found it yet on my search. They ask whether working for "the man" in Washington is part of it. They ask whether closing down Nova with Doug is the it I was waiting for. How much people want me to be something other than who I am. My answer is "yes." I have found it. Yes, working here in Washington is part of it. Yes, having ridiculous, sinful fun is part of it. Christmas alone. Pain, pleasure. Happiness, sadness. It's all part of it. Learning thai, relearning SPSS, talking politics with fascists, sweeping the floor, throwing snowballs at Jake.
Am I satisfied? Not really. But at least I have found purpose again. Am I following it at all costs? Absolutely not. And I'm not any happier. In fact, I'm probably sadder. I'm practicing. I'm warming up. I'm stretching.
It's all part of it.
