Date: 2004-11-29
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Miles today: 0.0

6pm 11.29.04 Ahh¢¦Home again. Back in Maryland, back in my bed, surrounded by my stuff. In only 2 months, I already feel more settled in Silver Spring than I did in my 9-month stint in Tucson. Maybe b/c I was constantly being dragged hither and yon across the Southwest. And yet, despite my satisfaction here, my enjoyment in belonging to and participating in clubs and teams, I can¢t shake this sense of displacement. Work is great -- I¢m learning heaps every day and Steve is the ever patient and informative teacher. But, when I try to envision my future, when I try to imagine my life in 6 months, 1 year, 2 years from now, I become aware of this niggling doubt as to whether I¢m on the right path. I feel so fortunate, and happy, that I¢ve learned all that I¢ve learned, that I¢ve acquired the skills that I have, and yet, more and more, it just doesn¢t seem like enough. Maybe I¢m simply impatient, I want to be able to do it all, immediately, NOW. But, I¢m fully aware that, in order to master a craft, it requires a HUGE investment of time. Mastery doesn¢t come easily. Maybe, and this is what I fear most, maybe I¢ll never really be satisfied, w/ my employment, w/ where I am in life. That I¢ll never find the ¢perfect¢ job, that I have such a passion for that it doesn¢t feel like work (at least, not most of the time¢¦). And, I¢m just not ready to accept that, the possibility that happiness can¢t be synonymous w/ employment, that the ideal job doesn¢t exist for me. It has to. I just have to keep searching, seeking, never ceasing in my quest, my search, not only for the perfect job, but for happiness in all that I do. And that search will never end. All these soul-searching questions make me think back to last winter. After all, it was right around this time last December that the seed of a long-distance hike began germinating in my brain. I had just discovered trailjournals (which is now a daily addiction). I was a clueless, novice outdoorsperson and hiker. My backpacking experience was limited to 3 week-long hikes, all w/ at least one family member and friends. Sure, I¢d spent a summer inhabiting a tent in central New Mexico, but there were a cadre of other folks, plus we had access to a house, complete w/ running water and indoor plumbing. (also housing feral mice, potential Hanta virus carriers) The biggest dangers were the occasional scorpion and the resident rattlesnake of the privy. But, they were easily avoided by, respectively, shaking out your boots VERY carefully every morning, and chucking rocks at the outhouse before entering. An annoyed rattle was your alert to ¢come back later¢ or, if an emergency, find the largest, most concealing bush you could to squat behind, quickly. But, I¢d never had to face the ¢great outdoors¢ by myself, solo, before. And I really didn¢t know what I was getting into, when I started seriously plotting a hike on the AT. I was more focused on logistics -- if I decided to do it, when would I have to give my 2 weeks notice? did I have enough money in savings? what gear did I need (virtually everything, it turned out, b/c I¢d always depended on my fellow hiking partners previously for gear.) when should I start? how would I get there? should I leave my stuff in storage in Arizona, or should I drive cross-country (again) back to PA? could I tie up all my loose ends at WACC in less than a month? But ultimately, everything fell perfectly into place, better than if I¢d tried to plan it all out. Which just goes to prove that the best things in life are the unanticipated, the unexpected, the unplanned. When I think of all the things that befell me on the AT, the random happenstances that led me to the people I met, the places I saw, none of that was planned. I chose the footpath, perhaps, but fate, fortune, serendipity, life, whatever you choose to call it, that guided my steps.