I need more adventures, memories that stick out because they’re so odd.
It's easy for me to say that as well, but I think a more accurate statement would be that I want more adventures. I twitch and itch and pick anxiously at the edges of things, grasping at novelty. I'm a high-pass kid in a high-frequency world. I gulp down three glasses of ice-cold catalyst every morning and go through paradigms like cheap conference t-shirts. I want continuous metamorphosis and I want it now. Gritty, transformative experiences. An endless succession of climaxes, rites of passage. New worlds.
But it's not what I need.
I need to balance it, to learn how to sit and be happy. I don't want to be tied to a home, but I want to be drawn to one - to have something constant that I'm willing to go back to time and again. I want rituals with depth, traditions with a meaning behind them that runs out richer the longer I go on. I want to be content to find clarity in stillness and internalize that progress is possible without having to run full-tilt at the wall, or even move forward at all. Those tiny settlings in perception that sink into things, soak deliciously through your mind instead of careening off it with a thundering clang. I need to be open to not changing. It's a kind of coming of age not to need to come of age - I don't know if it's possible to reach that.
I'll still sprint, of course. I'm built to need that, so far. And I can't see myself reaching the kind of peace with the present I've just described. But I'm learning to learn from silence and stillness instead of thinking, and I'm trying to let go of my powerful thirst to learn - it can be an addictive lust as much as anything else can, though there are far worse vices in this world.