Thursday, September 01, 2005

The Gypsy.

I was speaking with a girl about a month ago, and I described my lifestyle as I have lived it over the past 6 months or so.

She said "That sounds like a Gypsy to me."

n. pl. Gyp·sies

    1. A member of a people that arrived in Europe in migrations from northern India around the 14th century, now also living in North America and Australia. Many Gypsy groups have preserved elements of their traditional culture, including an itinerant existence and the Romany language.
    2. See Romany.
    3. gypsy One inclined to a nomadic, unconventional way of life.
    4. A person who moves from place to place as required for employment, especially:
      1. A part-time or temporary member of a college faculty.
      2. A member of the chorus line in a theater production.

The list of the places I have been in the past 5 months is starting to reveal to me just how restless I have become. I've lost count of the number of states and miles I've traveled. Weekend excursions to see friends that add 1,000 miles to the odometer. Pilgrimages to old universities. Hikes through foreign woods. Trips to help family move. Even a quest or two to prove my friendship and loyalty. A voyage into someone elses traditions.

I am starting to realize that my itinerant status is becoming its own paradigm. I travel so much that moving has turned into standing still. A change now would require that I settle into a place for a time.

"Not all who wander are lost."

I am not lost. I am not seeking for a safe harbour or a quiet bay. But I do find myself desiring roots again. Considering a place that I can claim as my own.

Should I begin to search for that place? Am I ready yet? I feel that my travels have left something unfinished, but I cannot put my finger on it yet.