When you talk to other people about the goal of walking across the country, inevitably the conversation will come around to the reasons that you might or might not have for taking on such a journey. Often, it is raised by the other person as some version of the question, "What cause are you taking up or supporting with your walk?"
For me this is a difficult question to answer because I really don't have some overarching external cause that I'm supporting (say, the Kidney Foundation or Living Legacy or Walk for a Cure or any one of a great number or worthy causes and organizations working to make the world a better place). At the heart of my reasoning, I suppose I'm called to the prep work in advance of one day making this walk because it has become a part of who I am over the last several years.
Rory and I were talking around this issue the other day, and he observed that he'd basically lived his whole life and never really felt at home in any of the places he's lived. It's an interesting observation because he's spent the better part of seven decades searching for home (or maybe not). That conversation got me thinking about how my own experiences have stacked up against his.
I too have not ever really found a place that I felt entirely comfortable with the notion of settling in for the long haul. Up to this point, I've been fortunate because the nature of the way I earn my living has necessitated multiple re-locations, and as you can see by previous postings quite a lot of travel even when I'm in the same location for a number of years.
I am beginning to suspect that part of the answer to both Rory and my dilemma is that we may not ever find a place to truly call home.We've either been blessed or cursed with whatever part of the human genome is responsible for the more nomadic tendencies of the tribe of humanity.
All that said, although I don't feel at home in any one particular place that I've landed thus far, I have grown appreciative of having a "home base."
One of the more important aspects of this home base for me is the relationship that I've developed with the people who cut my hair. My home base must be located withing a reasonable commuting distance (by car) of a good one of these:
The use of the Barber Pole as a trade symbol dates back to the Middle Ages and was once associated with bloodletting, tooth extraction, and hair grooming. There are some additional connotations and denotations described in the linked article above, and I'll leave you to form your own conclusions.
The real point for me is that even though I appear to be drawn to the nomadic existence, it's important to me to be able to rely on the people I trust to trim my short locks. It makes sense when one considers that the place I go still uses the straight razor in the final neck line clean-up process. Finding an acceptable barber will be one of the many little annoyances that will have to be solved during the pilgrimage, and it will be interesting to see this (and many other things I probably haven't even considered) play out.
For me this is a difficult question to answer because I really don't have some overarching external cause that I'm supporting (say, the Kidney Foundation or Living Legacy or Walk for a Cure or any one of a great number or worthy causes and organizations working to make the world a better place). At the heart of my reasoning, I suppose I'm called to the prep work in advance of one day making this walk because it has become a part of who I am over the last several years.
Rory and I were talking around this issue the other day, and he observed that he'd basically lived his whole life and never really felt at home in any of the places he's lived. It's an interesting observation because he's spent the better part of seven decades searching for home (or maybe not). That conversation got me thinking about how my own experiences have stacked up against his.
I too have not ever really found a place that I felt entirely comfortable with the notion of settling in for the long haul. Up to this point, I've been fortunate because the nature of the way I earn my living has necessitated multiple re-locations, and as you can see by previous postings quite a lot of travel even when I'm in the same location for a number of years.
I am beginning to suspect that part of the answer to both Rory and my dilemma is that we may not ever find a place to truly call home.We've either been blessed or cursed with whatever part of the human genome is responsible for the more nomadic tendencies of the tribe of humanity.
All that said, although I don't feel at home in any one particular place that I've landed thus far, I have grown appreciative of having a "home base."
One of the more important aspects of this home base for me is the relationship that I've developed with the people who cut my hair. My home base must be located withing a reasonable commuting distance (by car) of a good one of these:
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| The "Barber Pole" at the shop I've been going to for the last 11 years |
The real point for me is that even though I appear to be drawn to the nomadic existence, it's important to me to be able to rely on the people I trust to trim my short locks. It makes sense when one considers that the place I go still uses the straight razor in the final neck line clean-up process. Finding an acceptable barber will be one of the many little annoyances that will have to be solved during the pilgrimage, and it will be interesting to see this (and many other things I probably haven't even considered) play out.
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