The mountains are calling, and I must go...

Journeys aren’t built by one long continuous path, but by a series of twists and turns, stops and starts. A path dragged out too long, and you’re bound to get weary, miss the wonderment in the surroundings, and forget why you were walking at all. 

For the last couple of months, there has been the nagging whisper of my inner disciplinarian in my ear, disappointed that I have not been producing regular blog entries here. Occasionally, I would open up the page to read my latest writing in the hopes that some thematic element would inspire a natural evolution into an new entry.

Obviously, not successful. 

For a while, I told myself that I would start again when “life made more sense”, “calmed down” or “had direction” again. I thought this meant when I found a new job (which I did), when I found a new place (which I did) and when I returned to more hobbies and personal projects (which is a battle). 

But when I did all of these things, and life was feeling just a bit more manageable again, I still didn’t know what to write about. 

And that’s because this is the end of that path. 

I’ve always been a project-starter, not a project-finisher. The “C” word (completion) scares me because then it can be evaluated. Then it can be a failure. I don’t think I recognize exactly how many ways I prop up this fallacy in my behavior and decisions. And it is certainly one I would like to start combatting more conscientiously. 

Most blogs I’ve started (if not all) have simply ceased by default, with no sincere good-bye or reflection. I didn’t want that to happen here. I kept revisiting some inner pressure to carry out this blog because to not keep posting just felt like another way the chaos of life had thwarted my personal goals. Just another way of failing my expectations.

But I no longer have goals of expectations for this blog. And it isn’t a failure. 

This blog houses five years of growth, transformation and inner wisdom. It paints a whole picture that was sparked once upon a time by one decision: to take myself West. It is the muddled fumbling of discovering independence tracing shapes and sounds of the world with the exhilaration of a baby discovering their first words. It was a tool that let far away loved ones grow with me, and in turn let us sustain a growth in our distant relationships. And even now, I can go back into the memory trove and regain perspectives and insights that life can throw off kilter. And I can only hope that somewhere along the path, I inspired others in some small way. 

I’m not exploring the transition from Mitten to Mountains anymore. I’ve created new ideas of home, new relationships, new hopes for the future and they go far beyond two coasts. 

I’m not quitting. I’m not failing. 

I’m completing, so I can begin.