For most of my youth, I believed I would grow up to live in the mountains of Colorado. Then I went to Europe. The plan became Colorado, then Europe. As adultish interests developed and flourished, New York City trumped these former fantasies. I even decided upon my favorite neighborhoods and streets. All the while, I never left Kansas.
After nearly twenty-four years though, I finally left. Shortly before I did however, and as I was finally activating an actual plan, my way of planing the future changed yet again.
In June, I went to Arkansas in search of a bird. It was there that I realized I am lucky, because it has never been about place, but person, people, and experience. Even if in some places there are no people. I can be as happy as I’ve ever been, anywhere. Be it the art capitol of the world, a primeval forest, Texas, Baghdad, or even, Missouri. So long as I take a personal and purposeful interest in knowingthat place. Its streets, history, and dust. Its neighborhoods and hoods. Its temperature, its accent, its dirt. With this knowledge, or with the action of acquiring it, I can be ‘happy’. The question is, for how long?
People have already begun to ask me what comes after graduate school. I know what is expected of me (New York or Los Angeles). I know what I long for (New York or Lawrence). And I know that I’m not worried about what comes in 2007, or the surprises that may come between now and then, pleasant or not. Between now and the day I move, I want to know this city as best I can. In the way that I know Kansas and its people. Because a relationship with place, complete with a knowledge of its inhabitants, is the only way to realize that place doesn’t matter. A relationship with the Land, a connection beyond interest, and toward the realm of understanding, is the only way to call any place or no place at all,home, with contentment.