Of having it all. I’ve found a place that feels like home, one would think I’d then be satisfied. There’s still so much I want from life though, so many places I haven’t seen, beaches I haven’t surfed, friends I haven’t met, animals I haven’t giggled with, food I haven’t tried.
I expressed a desire to a friend the other day that I would like one day travel to places and hang out with chimpanzees, swim with dolphins, hang out in treehouses above a foreign canopy of trees, coast down a river that was longer than any I had ever been on before. He asked me what was stopping me. In truth, of course the first thing I thought of was the cost. I don’t have the kind of dosh required to buy a plane ticket. Then I started thinking, there are other things than planes. Even so, I still need to come up with some money, realistically.
But let’s say the money was there. Would I go? Or would I trade the exhilaration of adventure for the peace of feeling at home and the security of knowing I’m comfortable (or would be if the damn woodstove would heat up just a little faster, having not tended my fire diligently today.)
But that seems like a bullshit argument to me. If I really wanted to do it, nothing would stop me. Perhaps it shouldn’t.