This is a dangerous place, full of cliffs and sinkholes! I could get trapped in here if I’m not careful.
I was wandering around in my head this morning and thought I’d better sit back down. I’m happy it is Saturday and I’m somewhat free to do that. Anyway, as I was wandering around in there, I thought about other places I’ve been. I haven’t been to many, but enough to get the idea.
I’ve lived in California for ten years now and there is no end in sight. I’ve never really enjoyed it very much and I haven’t quite felt at home.
At first, I thought it might be because all of my family is somewhere else, but I’ve had family visit once or twice and, while it was wonderful, I didn’t feel at home.
Then I thought: maybe Texas is just better. But better at what? People seem to have essentially the same setup here as there. They work and sleep and eat and party. Things go on much the same, or at least it appears so from a cursory inspection.
But really there is something different. Am I different when I’m in Texas? I feel different, but I can’t really say that I am different. The saying goes, “Home is where the heart is.” Does this mean I left my heart in Texas? Really, it does kinda feel like that.
Did I have some kind of brilliant childhood that is impossible to live up to no matter where I live now? Not a chance. I had all kinds of stumbling blocks around just like most other folks. I had the same pain and loss and unmet needs.
So I’ve come up with a rather unscientific conclusion. Anyone who is lucky enough to grow up in Texas will just prefer Texas. Once you incubate in the glory and passion of Texas, anything plain and generic just won’t do. Even if there is money and work and relationships. It can all be very nice and tidy, but it just isn’t home.
I’m reminded of something Richard Feynman once said, “Time is just different up there then it is down here. You can’t beat the game.” So maybe my soul is relativistic. It just does its soul stuff differently over there than over here.