Mostly autobiographical after-the-fact self-advice.
I’m quite convinced that many, if not most of us, are capable of living lives that range somewhere between mostly satisfactory and partially fulfilling. Certain birth lottery factors set aside, of course. Content in the continuation of living how and where our stories began. The hometown or region, the line of work or career, the religion, general lifepath, and final resting place that were all, in varying degrees, mapped out for us. With subtle and not-so-subtle reminders sprinkled into our daily lives from cradle to grave. I would in no way call such a life boring, fearful, or unlived. Not at all. I truly believe that the vast majority of pleasant existences play out within these traditional parameters. There is a sense of comfort, a degree of reliability, and collective dignity in such a life.
But what happens if you cast aside the map you were first issued in life and go traipsing off beyond its borders? There’s a lot that could happen. For example, you could have your eyes opened, senses awakened, and whole world turned upside down by the things that lie beyond the boundaries of the life plan presented to you in the beginning. It could be the greatest thing that ever happened. It could also be the worst. Or both.
Either way, there will be consequences, good and bad, and a whole bunch of them are wholly undoable. Some folks possess character or personality traits that when engaged or enlivened, awaken a soul prone to seeking further and deeper than they were expecting or prepared for. Becoming a sort of transient with itches that could be described as the same. That come and go, and morph over time, but always at some point need scratching. Sending them on their way to a new town, career, circle of friends, relationship, and on occasion down the path of stalwart hedonism. Such a life is to be as envied or pitied as the prior.
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