For as long as I can remember I’ve been fascinated with preternatural things. But, it’s always been more than that. Not only was I always attracted to the unusual and obscure, but I’ve always had an irrevocable affinity for the forces that unify our existence on a universal scale.
Perhaps, it’s been my desire to find meaning in life. Perhaps, my inability to accept the monotonous and mundane as my unrepealable continuance. I’ve always wanted there to be something more to life, something extraordinary.
If I were to be completely honest, I’ve yet to find it. This, of course, does not take away from the fact that I’ve had some inexplicable experiences in my life; none that I care to share at this moment. However, I suppose that some part of me is unsatisfied with the “every day”.
So, what do I do? I look to science, mythology, history and even ancient alien theory (just to mention some) for the answers to the ocean of unanswered questions that float daily in my mind.
And yet, I’m in a continual conundrum. Why? Well, because the more I dig, the more I ask. The more question I ask, the more unsatisfied I become with my diurnal routine. It’s like a never ending cycle yet to be abated by whatever discoveries I make.
It’s funny because often times I find myself in a position where I am the encyclopedia of random information amongst my friends and family. Truth be told, I enjoy imparting what knowledge I’ve learned. Yet, with every tidbit I render unto others, I find myself inquiring more of the universe. Yearning for more knowledge and desiring more insight.
Here is what makes it worse for me …
I am an average, everyday, uneventful person. Like 80% of the residents of planet earth, I get up every morning and practice the routine mandates of a mother and person. My life isn’t fantastic by any means. I still experience want, need, pain and boredom. I still go through the emotions, lethargies and felicities of human existence. I’m no different than you, I’m sure.
So I wonder, is it wrong to want more? Is it wrong to hunger for a bounty of adventure? Is it wrong to covet the expedition of an undiscovered and mysterious enterprise? I wonder, because I realize that in longing for more, I’m just leaving myself open to disillusion on a constant basis. Is it right, fair even, to do that to myself.
I, often times, wish I could be like Albert Einstein or Stephen Hawking, whom were/are masters at mind experiments. They can/could traverse the universe with a single thought, and visit other planets, other species, other worlds. What I wouldn’t do to be able to do that.
Other times, I find myself longing to be among the few that HAVE mounted and aircraft and traveled into outer space. Of course, life has dealt me another deck of cards altogether. One which makes me ponder the fact that perhaps I’ve been cheated somehow. Outsmarted.
On the other side of the token is the fact that I feel guilty for craving such things. I feel blameworthy because I want, I desire, and I long to go places none have gone, to do things that none have done, to expedience things that none have experienced. But is that right, being that I have a child that depends on me for everything? Does that make me a bad mother or person? I couldn’t tell you.
Today, I awoke in an introspective mood, considering all things in life; all the facets of it. My past choices, my current struggles, my future and where it might lead. And I wonder, will it always be this way with me? Will I always be the adventurer trapped in the life of the introvert?
I suppose the right question is: