|Mattole Road, Humboldt County, CA, March 2011|
I had grown up knowing that "forever" never really meant forever.
So when I was finally faced with the saving grace of being permanently anchored to something that I could grow from, I vowed to do something that my mother and father never made good on, honoring the sanctity of a promise.
And yet as with my mother and father, life brought me to another fork in the road, albeit 20 years later.
At least my mom and dad each recognized that you can't save a sinking ship. And they've been around long enough to know that honoring something doesn't really get you anywhere. I tried to be the hero that kept the ship afloat, and when people asked me how things were going I always told them all was well. I wanted to know that I wasn't going to be like my mom and dad.
"It's about time!" each of them told me when they found out I had finally abandoned ship.
Some people have been able to remain committed to another person or to another institution or even to a specific brand of motorcycle, for the rest of their lives. They even express that commitment by tattooing its name to their bodies. But at what price does that commitment cost?
What other opportunities of growth and enrichment are we depriving ourselves of by remaining fixed to something?
Why do we make promises knowing that we can never predict the future?
And why I would believe that this time is different, and that this time really means forever?
If I can gradually eliminate "stuff" from my life, to the point where I become more transparent, more in touch with myself, and more reliant on my own faculties, then why do I need security? Why do I need the promise of forever?