It's come back to visit again, the old romantic burning - the feeling of longing attached to no particular target. It's a tie-in to whenever I half-settle, whenever I sit still in the presence of a place, knowing I'll be here for a spell, knowing I'll be leaving to wander again soon. The pangs of the feeling hold a familiar sway in a person's single days. Hold sway on the tired days when you aren't entirely sure which way to turn, when seeing a happy couple laughing together in front of you tugs fiercely at your heart strings.

Considerable portions of the feeling focus on the craving for love - it's tied into romanticism and relationships heavily. Portions of it fall to love of other types as well - to a love of a community of friends, of place, of the pursuits of ones life... When I am moving, wandering, driving - it's not running (I don't seek it as an escape) but the pace keeps many thoughts quiet. Only in the stillness and routine of a more settled life do I think about the future, about the love that I have, about the love that I want.

An Antarctic winter is steeped in these moments. By the end of that dark, I thought I had a fairly good handle on the longing-quiet, on the melancholy associated with it. In that I can see beyond it, I do. Becoming mired in it or lost in its depths is no longer a worry of mine. So far as not encountering it though? Life always offers an opportunity to be challenged again - I can't seem to avoid it. The universe of our growth is not so easy to run from.

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Posted by noblehobo at 6:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Sometimes accomplishing the small goals can reap major rewards. Not sure why, but sewing buttons back onto old favorite shirts, extending their life a touch, seems monumental today. I can't think of many items on the list (of things to do in my life) much smaller, or of a lower priority, but I feel like I'm tackling something greater.

Now, back to packing. I'm off to Boulder soon.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The snow tonight is heavy, fluffed full and quickly melting in the springtime warmth. Driving south out of Duluth - spray coming up off the roads, the evening dimmed by low clouds, good music on the radio, the thrum of my windshield wipers - the road felt good. It was a hearkening back to many jaunts between seasonal work - late night drives in a cocoon all my own. The road may not be a home, but I can unload my brain some there and sort out the jumble of the last couple of months.

Posted by noblehobo at 4:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've spent the better part of the last two months back in the United States bouncing between various worlds, helping family and tracking down friends, scheduling visits and hiking in places my feet have missed in the last two years.

It's beautiful and bizarre, inspiring and occasionally confusing to cram so much in, but tiring. I lack a home to rest and recuperate in, my own space in which to spread out my thoughts, to leave some resting safely while I tackle others or explore a tangent. No matter how much I might appreciate the various homes I stay in, couches I crash on, or offered beds, they are not mine... I need to take ownership of a space, to call it my own, for my mind to wind down and breathe easy.

Tonight, sitting in a favorite old coffee shop in Duluth, I am tired. Satisfied by the last few days, definitely, but tired and in need of rest. I've some temporary respites coming up, some brief stops that will help keep my head healthy while wanderlust still courses in my veins. I am certainly not done with wandering and traveling. I'm just starting to think that when I am ready to settle, when I am ready to remain in one place for several years or more, it will be due to a weariness with wanderlust, with a fierce craving for something consistent and solid that speaks with a louder voice. When I plunk down for a long spell, I'll be doing so with as much fire as my wandering soul carries now.

Posted by noblehobo at 3:38 PM | Permalink

Tonight I've been sorting through old piles of paper, separating out the vital from the non, and breaking down the vital into the necessary categories. In one pile, financial information. In another, book and music recommendations to be added to the bigger digital lists I keep. Third, a few old notes from former flames, placed in a box of photographic memories. And last? A collection of random poetry bits, quipped on scrap paper, pieces of previous memories and previous homes. These I hide in various boxes, to bring a reminder of something solid when I least expect it. A reminder of the past for the next time I am sorting in the present as I prepare for the future.

Posted by noblehobo at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

To make peace with the past, to say thank you, then gently set aside (or try to) old frustrations and resentments, to say hello again...

...one should never pass up said chances. There is always more to learn, to understand, and to grow into but there is little worth more than walking forward with a lighter heart.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

At the end of every seasonal contract, you are forced to contemplate the great "what's next". Depending on the previous job, this can be a frenzied search for something with an immediate paycheck or a far more lackadaisical approach at tackling the unknown. It can be a time of peace and self-understanding as much as it can be a time of mild panic and frustration.

Back in school, I dreaded art assignments and graphic design projects that had completely open or unwritten objectives. I craved a set of rules, simple or complex, against which to test ideas, throw themes at, find ways to look at differently, or break if necessary. The borders set around me only increased my want and will to put together a creative solution, to do something more than was expected.

Coming off of a winter at the South Pole, becoming debt free, saving a small amount of money, being single, and having no dependents, I find myself with a very, very open road ahead of me. My problem is not in lacking a direction, but in having too many to choose from. The realities of life have not narrowed my choices by way of finances, responsibilities, and commitments. They have not created rules from within which I have to determine my future. They have not set the expectations that I want to exceed.

I find myself driving down the road, struggling to grab on to tens if not hundreds of different paths to choose from. I can see plans that would unfold over the next few weeks of visiting friends, of helping family, of putting my resume together and applying for jobs starting immediately and over the next few months. I can see short term plans of where to live for the spring, be it Denver, Duluth, Minneapolis, New Orleans, Alaska, or something else entirely, of making art or simply spending time up north. I can see longer term plans of going back to Antarctica, of going back to school for teaching and/or biology, of working in the growing sustainability movement, of a cabin on land I own in the woods...and I can see the plans that have no particular time-line yet, such as building a writing career or biking throughout the state of Minnesota. I can see all of these things dancing in the fog, some mingling together, some crossing off the possibility that others promise.

It's a "grass is always greener" dilemma to lament the choices that I have, so I seek not to. I can't stop struggling over what to choose, but I can be thankful that I have the options. I must have done something right somewhere for the opportunities that keep coming my way. And I can set my own rules as I go.

Because, on a great many levels, I need those rules. I need to define a set of walls to throw some metaphorical graffiti on, to climb up and look over, to punch a hole in. I function better that way.

If I don't set a plan down to aim for, a path to trod, I'll just end up spinning away in neutral.

Posted by noblehobo at 7:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)