I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me. – Herman Hesse
I’m wandering. I’m aimless. I don’t know what I want. But I’m supposed to – that’s how people get happy, by setting goals and achieving them. If you have a goal you’re okay, life makes sense. If you don’t have a goal, wow, who are you?
You only have to pick up any self help book to figure this out. You’ll make goals, and then sub goals, and then plans for achieving them. But I learned in my child psych class too that good parenting is helping your children set achievable goals and then reach them. I’ve become a compulsive goal/list maker. It’s how I deal with stress. If something bad happens, I make a list of things to do, a budget, a plan, whatever. I don’t follow any of these plans or lists, I just like making them. It makes me feel better.
At this point in life I’ve given myself permission (as if I need it) to have no goals. Sometimes I make excuses for my goalless-ness. I say I’m recovering from too many goals, or just that I’m young. Most of the time, tho, I don’t think I need an excuse. I don’t think it’s natural for people to need goals, to structure our very selves in this way.
There are things I want, of course. Without structure it often seems like nothing get’s done. I’ve been sewing one damn skirt for months now (it’s too bad the fabric doesn’t go bad, like caribou meat, if it’s not processed quickly – then I’d get it done). Even living in a van, my world is too large for just following my simple, beautiful path to tie up all the loose ends. Loose ends which, lately, I just leave behind like ribbons blowing in the wind.
I need to make my world smaller, but isn’t that a goal? And if it is, does it include the internet? I want a tribe. But that’s a goal too.
So I set a new course, a new way of getting from here to there. I will learn it from my blood as I go.