[Heading South.]

These past few days have been some of the most interesting of my life. Part of it can be found in the experiences themselves, but more so in the conflict of high and low.

Recap:

My struggle to adjust to life outside of SD had a surprising twist upon reuniting with and discovering new old friends. It's been great and excruciating. Pain, pleasure.

Plans to go visit Sioux Falls for graduation weekend turned into a last minute sprint to ready myself for a backpacking trip in the high grounds of Superior.

Hiked it. Rocked it. Got absolutely rocked.

Hitch-hiked, swam with leeches, hiked with wolves, hosted tent parties, swam in creeks, found Brown Water to be most thirst-quenching beverage in the world and discovered peanut butter is best on the things you'd least expect, survived a flash flood, earned muddy war paint and an official trail name.

Left on an absolute high. Arrived in a less friendly reality.

This has been yet another truly debilitating transition.

My most dependable relationship in this town is heading West. I'm feeling frustrated with my new job. (The more I explore, the more I'm noticing everything looks the same.) And finally, a rejection from my future. Colorado put the kabosh on my expectations. Thus, I’m left to revamp my plans. Back to the point of those posters that covered my walls back in November which I was incredibly grateful to not have to look at for the past 5 or so months — "Do I Stay or Do I Go Now?"

Hmm.

If I have learned anything in this past month, I know that I must simply continue to explore. With purpose. With passion. With every ounce of my being.

In taking the first steps in doing so, I'm feeling tugged in many directions. I am open to many plans. Perhaps more than is healthy. I believe -- I have to -- that I will know it when I find what I am looking for.

Last night I went to an international volunteering seminar. Felt drawn.

I've heard myself ponder the option of picking a state and going. Find something once I get there.

The yearning is still there to WWOOF, but this time I’m wondering about setting out on my own instead of finding a companion.

And you know what? My move to the organic farm happens this weekend. Maybe that will be the turning point.

As you can imagine, with all these big picture who-knows up in the air, my life seems extremely abstract. I am overwhelmed with the possibilities, and - though I’m completely disappointed with the results of the Colorado stint - I am actually feeling quite refreshed about the potential housed in my future.

Where to begin?

Spin the globe. Close your eyes. Take a leap.

[Relearning to live.]

My life in Sioux Falls is now a tightly wrapped past present…err…gift. (I say that because I hope repeating it will make it true.) The relationships birthed there continue on…and so do I. I am now focused on my life in Minnesota. How to make it great?

So far, it hasn’t been me creating the opportunities and forcing the enlightenment. I’ve actually had a terrific time readjusting to life in this glorious state and taking in the fresh perspective on every aspect of this town and its neighbors. I have had a few wonderful guides.

I have to admit that my favorite new friend- who just so happens to be moving all the way out to Spokane in just over a week- has had an incredible impact on life as I know it ‘round these parts… and well beyond. I have learned more about just going, doing, and fully embracing life’s moments, surroundings, and overlooked brilliance in the three times we’ve hung out than I have over these last few years. And all of those feats were things I focused on and strove for everyday in a purposeful way before. But I suppose that’s where the two of us differ—I’m a ponderer, he's a leaper. I love the challenge that has sprouted in our interactions. My typical, thoughtful analysis of life doesn’t reign on high. I don’t have time to weigh the options and talk myself out of or into things. It’s just go-go-go and that’s exactly how I want to live. I think what I’m learning now is how to put all my thoughts and recently constructed goals on how to fully live into action. Not merely daydreaming.

It’s empowering! Exhausting. A gem of an experience for me.

I’ve squeezed so much out of life and put so much into it. After going through a long period of time where I became a bit lethargic and shrouded in routine and familiarity, I now feel energy welling up and pouring out, despite endless movement and sunrise bedtimes.

I need this. I love the creativity and motivation. I will continue beyond our time in the same state. I do think it will be tough… I mean, so much promise arrives out of nowhere and just as suddenly becomes a fleeting memory? It’s disappointing, but it’s not lost. Every moment of bold engagement in life is a tribute to these moments, so revisiting will be easy.

[Home Away From Home Away From Home...?]

This little adventure I’ve been on since deciding to leave the place I’ve lived for the last five years of my life has not been easy. Falling into a routine has been troubling—it seems pointless. I am feeling unsettled, unearthed, and far from grounded. My place here feels temporary.

Or so I say…as this is all still merely hypothetical.

I really am banking on this Colorado program, even though I am consistently riveted with guilt over beginning my job here, bonding with all sorts of people who so desperately need consistent interaction, and just as suddenly bolting from it.

At the same time, though, I am extremely enticed by the opportunity to get to know these familiar places on a whole new level. I get a charge out of discovering new attractions and fresh crannies to spend all my free time. I absolutely feed on the chance to go out and get a never-before-seen glimpse of the social scene here. It’s terrible and trying, yet is completely enticing because I find myself forced to make new acquaintances or relearn the folks that I never really knew all that well in the first place… I adore this freedom found in being routineless.

Home really is new to me now. And Northfield is even more foreign. Even more promising. I could absolutely be happy there for an extended period of time. Especially if I really let myself open up and fall in love with life. If I really allowed myself to commit to creating a life here—new friends, new habits, new weekend plans, and new fallback plans.

I haven’t committed to allowing myself such a privilege yet, however.

I’m protecting myself. Buffering others. Still getting used to the idea. I have to admit it has been far too easy to subconsciously convince myself that this is temporary. The kind of ‘temporary’ that I really understand this as being-- deep down, I mean—is something as simply and brief as some sort of school break or something. That’s all that I’ve known home as for the past five years, and that’s all it seems like now. It’s awfully hard for me to believe Sioux Falls is actually someone else’s now. I’m not sure that’ll hit me for a good, long while. I can hear myself say it as much as I want, but I means nothing. Not yet.

And really, in the oddest way, leaving has been a relief. I needed to go on exploring and needed to be forced out of that comfort zone. I see that once I dig through the layers of longing, loneliness, and adoration for those I had to leave there. I miss those loves terribly—the people, places, the sights and emotions that that glorious place brings out of me—time in and out I am only a few memories from tears.

But they are tears that dry up with each new distraction. And I’m really good at creating distractions for myself.

So, I suppose, that’s my crutch at the moment: Creating a new niche for myself. It’s exciting, filled with promise, and 100% new. I love the process. But I know that it’s keeping me from processing all the rest. Such is life, I suppose…? When you’re this skilled at forming your own coping mechanisms and disguising them as healthy outlets or have the ability to (truly) convince your-oh-so-gullable-self that you aren’t manipulating the situation’s loose ends to make this easier… well, it makes the whole scenario seem almost…fun.

You see, in my little bubble here, there doesn’t seem to be much pain left to deal with—for myself or anyone else. Even when I hear from friends claiming they miss me, I take a moment to turn my frown upside-down, but just as quickly put up some sort of protective barrier by telling myself that they felt that way for a split second and have since forgotten.

This situation has the same sort of feel as coming home from a foreign country does: you know that other life and all the variables that you so adored within it continue…but because they are not here, now, it is a hard reality to maintain.

The whole thing remains so mysterious. So distant. A bit numb.