Maybe it’s spring fever. Maybe it’s a middle aged crisis. Regardless of the cause, I have the strong urge to take off running and not stopping until I have found my purpose. It’s sounds like a cliche even to me. I’m certainly not the first person searching for meaning and I definitely won’t be the last. Here I am, in my 50’s, and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

I tried to explain this to someone last night. Although I’m usually fairly articulate, all I could do was wave my hands around in frustration as I searched for the right words that would explain my dilemma. We talked of how in the past people would go off and live in the wilderness to get closer to God. Perhaps they were running away from their lives and the spiritual aspect gave them an excuse to bolt. I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t want to die with the regret that I never took the hard road.

My life has been pretty cushy. Yes, there have been some difficulties and lately quite a few physical unpleasantness have arose. Still, I have always had food and shelter. I’m by no means suggesting that I want to be homeless and starving. Is it possible that I will never reach my truth if I don’t sacrifice something? I was asked if I would be willing to give up everything if it meant a closer relationship with God. Tough question. I don’t know what I’m capable of because I’ve never really tried.

After much discussion, all I could finally say is that it feels like time to go to my personal wilderness. I wish to hell I knew what that means. It’s kind of like when you catch sight of something just outside your peripheral vision. You know it’s there but your brain can’t process the information. I’m desperate to know what the image is but can’t figure out how to get how to get it into focus.

Until I do, I’ll go about my daily life. But if you’re talking to me one day and I suddenly get a far way look in my eyes, I’m not ignoring you. It’s just that I’m listening for the call that will bring me fully to myself.