At certain times, certain periods of my life, I find myself grappling with an old demon. It rides on my back, its long curling claws hitched into my flesh, fastened at the shoulder blades. It likes to whisper in my ear. Sometimes it tells me to press on the gas of my car and never look back. Other times it tells me to whimper and yearn, to feel small and needy. I have thus far been unable to shake or shed it.
In love, I am a computer fraught with conflicting systems of operation, old and new. The old, a desperation. The new, a liberation, an empowerment. A freedom. Trouble is, I associate each of these with place. In archetypal terms, let’s call it the mountain and the market.
In the mountain I am alone free, unhindered by others. But I am without community as well. Without relationship be it romantic or friendly. And inevitably I become aware of my need, my yearning, to return to people, and to the market.
In the market I am together, with others, but without a sense of groundedness, without roots, with stability in my day to day. For I am without home. The result is imbalanced, unhealthy dependencies in relationship. The result is feeling anxious and giddy to run off once more to the mountains, to return to myself.
Get it? In the mountains, I am with myself. In the market, I am with others. But wherever I am, I am denying a fundamental aspect of myself. In the mountains, it is my need for social connection. In the market, it is my need for solitude.
It is innately an imbalanced situation. Ultimately unfulfilling in both respects. Ultimately unsatisfactory.
If I am to be home, it is quite simple. I must have my space. I must have roots. The nomadic lifestyle is good and beautiful and nourishing but it is tiresome, ever changing, and spiritually impairing on a certain level. For I am without my family, blood and built.
And yet with due consideration, I reach this essential truth:
What I desire most is this: a bit of land, a home of my own, a woman who wishes to share their life with mine, who harbors the same nomadic and domestic urges, space and time to write, to read, and contemplate, a community. Yes, all of this. Situated somewhere between the mountains and the market.