Sometimes the Universe decides to tweek. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps not. Either way, the system sneezes, and Murphy's Law prevails.
The bicycle built for one cannot bear the weight of two. Or can it? Maybe it is possible, but the place is not reserved for you no matter how well you travel. Ashes, ashes...and we all fall down.
But just like the childhood game, life dictates that we get back up on our feet again and hurry inside for dinner. Yet, even still, the fact remains that the majority of us are the lucky ones to emerge from childhood with only few horrific scars and all of our fingers and toes accounted for in the end. How very interesting it is that both the beauty and cruel trick of life is that we are born fighting to simply exist as every second of this experience ticks us toward the moment when we don't get back up again. Strange.
My apologies for the sudden darkness. But I promise you now that, as always, the stars will come out in the end...
First, I will be leaving the Middle East in two weeks, and I have decided that I will be pulling the blog at this time. Aside from the fact that I am in the process of undergoing a major life overhaul, I also have a number of personal and professional reasons for making this decision. That said, I never say never. There is always the possibility that I will take up writing for the public again. So, for those of you who are strongly interested in following along to my next undetermined destination, please feel free to send me a personal email if you haven't already. I would love to hear from you, I will add you to my list of those to contact directly if/when I decide to start writing again in the future.
Second, because the Hand of the Universe gave me a hard sucker punch to the gut this weekend, I sat down to ponder the bruising and meditate on the significance of the blow. Ok, who are we kidding here? I sobbed myself through a night and a day, but the good news is that the tears sloshed me down the drain to a place where I was able to perform a deep and serious assessment of my life. Call it an overhaul, of sorts.
Among the many things that fell out of the sky this weekend (aside from something called my common sense) was the realization I had that I cannot go to India at this time. Without going into the grit of the details, I will just say that it was brought to my attention that I cannot go on living the way I have been living. Of course there is the possibility that the grass is greener. That possibility will always exists. Equally so, I have finally admitted to myself that my chronic state of self-created and perpetuated limbo has made me free in so many ways. Yet at the same time, I have become a slave to my own freedom. In exchange for this, I have grown to accept far less than I deserve. Sooner or later, we all fall down. Sooner or later, something has to give. For me personally, I have decided that I cannot and will not be this gypsy forever. At long last, my disdain for the suburban, generic and mundane has gotten the better of me.
So, with regard to India and everything else that I cannot write about publically, it hit me in one fell swoop that I can make the choice to continue propelling myself through these great distances. Or I can stop before I really strike out, and I acknowledge with humility that as awesome as my time of occupying my tiny shelf on the razor's edge of the world has been, the problem is that I am far too addicted to it out of my fear of stepping down. In the end, I realize that my adult life has been propelled by the problem I have with leading the life that I fear. And with regard to these fears, the hard truth is that I fear that I don't deserve the life of my dreams. So, I can keep running while others dig in and build their nests. And I can keep repeating to myself those same bedtime stories of self-justification. Or, I can simply admit that constantly seeking to find stability in my chronically shifting life of self-made instablity is really not a life at all, but a lifestyle choice in need of serious repair.
I suppose some people have their drugs..or maybe even their Tivo television shows. But me? I'm just a grown-up run-away trying to fix the child who built her happiness out of small, compartmentalized suitcases, always ready to hit the road at a moment's notice.
Ultimately, reaching this decision has made me realize that I am, actually, still running. I am making the decision to leave the life/non-life/lifestyle of this gypsy childwoman behind. All of this is going to take some time, but I am consciously choosing to do something new with myself. The dissertation still awaits completion, but the possibility exists that I can even be a grown up...some day.
But first, the winds are blowing hard again. It's time to pack up and purge. It is time to sort it all out and say good-bye...yet again...to the Middle East.
My plan is to blog through the next two weeks or so. I have a few more posts in rough form that will complete the latest chapter in the journey of me, myself and Namaste. Don't worry. I have no intention of leaving without a proper good-bye.
Until then, thank you all for reading. Thank you all for coming along with me through the giggles and tears of the last few years of my life. For those of you who know me personally, you will see me in Washington, DC very soon.