Public Introspection: Familiar Tune, Strange New Meter...

Things are a little blurry right now, to be honest. It's been a year now since I packed up my little life and relocated it to New York City, and it feels like it's been a handful of years, long ones. I wake up every morning and ask myself, "Why am I here?" The tone of the question isn't one of frustration, though in the beginning it might have been. It's just a question, like someone asking about the weather. I never sleep through the night; I always wake up at least once or twice to check my phone, check the clock. For several weeks now, I've been waking up about an hour before my alarm goes off, which is odd, since I rarely set my alarm for the same time two days in a row. It seems like my body and my brain are having this unusual philosophical battle, and when the dialogue gets abmormally robust, I awaken. I awaken, but never participate in the discussion. It's as though both parties stop talking when I enter the room. It's like when you know you've been dreaming some very vivid dream, but you can't remember even one detail, no matter how hard you try. It's just on the edge of what you can see when you close your eyes, but still...

There are so many things that I don't know right now. I've never been in a place like that before. I've never lived in such a state of pause in so many ways at once. I'm stopped, but moving forward, like I'm on a long escalator. I'm not being pushed forward, not moving against my will, just going, straight ahead, yet standing still. I can turn and look behind me, but everything back there is disappearing fairly quickly. Plus, looking back makes me dizzy. If I look just at the spot I'm standing in, it doesn't even seem that I'm moving really. But if I look ahead, I just see more upwardness. All the people in front of me are blocking the view of the top.

Where am I going? Why am I here?

I'm not struggling with these questions right now, as I always have in the past, although I do anticipate a new episode of the fight on the horizon. I'm here, where I've always wanted to be. I'm still in the process of figuring out if it is really is everything I ever wanted or nothing I ever could have imagined, as well as figuring out, day to day, if I want it still. I read an article about a well-known young actress who feels that life evolves in seven-year cycles. If that's true, then second grade, freshman year of high school, senior year of college, and last year, the year I finally realized my "big dream," mark my cycle renewals. You know, that actually sounds about right. Each cycle has felt shorter yet more full, and they each mark very different, very significant sets of learnings. Some recurring themes, but all composed in variations. And it's safe to say that at the beginning of each cycle, I had no idea what I was getting into.

I guess that makes me feel better about having no idea what I'm getting into now.

I ran across this Blaise Pascal quote in an old journal: "All men seek happiness. This is without exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end. The cause of some going to war, and of others avoiding it, is the same desire in both, attended with different views. The will never takes the least step but to this object. This is the motive of every action of every man, even of those who hang themselves."

OK, so Pascal's kind of a downer there at the end, but I still like this quote. Seeking happiness takes on so many different forms. For some, it's really seeking understanding, such that even in tangible misery, some joy resonates; for others, it may look like pursuing moments of mindless pleasure at the cost of depth and meaning. Happiness. Money can't buy it, nothing guarantees it, and you're lucky if you have it for a fraction of your days. Thank God, I'm pretty lucky.

Familiar tune, strange new meter. I hear it, I just can't quite dance to it yet. Past cycles have brought to the melody rhythms like... a Texas two-step - simple, fun... a strenuous yet rewarding jitterbug... a fast, rim-shot laden march... Today, things feel like they're slipping into a hazy waltz, stiff brushes on a rough snare, not brisk but moving ahead, just in front of the beat. In six more years, I may look back and laugh at such a notion. Who knows what the band leader has in store? It's early in the set.

But in six more years, I have a feeling I'll still be asking the same questions of myself in the middle of the night...