Why do I see images of places that I long to go to, be in, experience, live in; yet I stay here, in a city that I don’t really love, that feels heavy and crowded and busy and rushed.
I love the beach and blue water and mountains and trees and waterfalls. Why do I live in a place that doesn’t really have any of that? I look at pictures like this and am filled with longing. I remember times when I have visited places filled with such beauty.
Sanibel Island. We vacationed there three years ago, and it was wonderful. White sand, cool water, waves, shells, amazing seafood. We spent days walking on the beach gathering shells, biking along paths, looking at incredible plants and flowers and trees and animals.
One morning I got up and rode to a local coffee shop to get some work done. I imagined that I was a famous writer, that I lived on the island, and spent my mornings writing in the coffee shop; listening to the stories of both locals and tourists.
Then I thought, why couldn’t I just find a job in a place like this, and be in beautiful surroundings all the time? Would I grow weary of the beauty of nature if I lived there? Would I tire of the beach and ocean? Would it lose it’s mystery and magic?
I don’t know, but I would like to find out. I’m starting to think that life is too short to wait to try and risk and experiment and pursue dreams.
Then I realize that is a lot of what we are doing here at Convergence. We are trying to risk and experiment and pursue dreams. I love what I am doing. I think it’s just the location or setting that I wish were different.
My life has been marked by moves to new places. Maybe there is another one not too far off—and maybe next time I will look at the world around me and choose someplace that grabs my desires and dreams the way this beach does.