Letting Go

When I meet people that move around a lot, I always consider myself a really stationary being. I tend to set up camp in one place for a long time until something (or someone) convinces me it's time to pull up stakes and move along. I haven't ever regretted being in one place for "too long" because it's hard to know how long I was supposed to be there. How long do you give a place before you can fairly make the call that it was the right place to be? How many friends do you have to make, or lose, to know that you did right by those people and it's okay to move on?

I'm heading to Korea and Mongolia soon. It will be the longest I've been away from "home" in decades. It's a little scary, and it's reminding me of how much envy I've had in the past for people who can live like nomads all the time.

My trip is about exploring my roots (my family and cultural ties in Korea) and then switching gears to go off exploring my nagging desire to cut all roots off above the knee. I won't really be able to, but damn... on tough days I threaten the universe that when I get to Mongolia, I won't come back.

Sigh. I'm a total wuss... it's not gonna happen. The trip is, not the running away.

My friend Christian made a lovely little film about holding on. He and his wife, Adriana are nomads who've struggled with these questions more often than I. They're also role-models for what it takes to maintain the ties that matter.

the things we keep from svanes on Vimeo.

I have so much to learn. I'm perpetually in the process of shedding layers of my life, trying to decide what and when to purge. I think this is one of those things they never tell you about when you're a kid.