where are you going

If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there
— lewis carroll

I like to think that I am a wanderer. Maybe sometimes I am, maybe sometimes I like fulfilling my restless heart with taking a journey to I don't know where. Getting lost and then getting found can be a magical way to travel. 

Until it's not. 
Until it becomes circling self again and again. 
Until the wandering takes you nowhere.

Here's some hard questions:

What if I choose wandering because it is easier than naming a destination and charting a route to get there?

What if I am resisting the work of actually getting somewhere?

What if I am wrapping ugly avoidance in pretty language? 

I'd like to avoid these questions. It's not easy to take such an honest look at my motivation and behaviors. I am tired of going around in circles though, tackling the same issues over and over, making little to no progress because I don't really know where I am going. 

I thought I would know by now. At fifty-one years old, I feel like I should know what I want to be when I grow up. Maybe I do. Maybe I am just scared to say it aloud. Maybe I am intimidated by the work it will take to get there. Instead of facing my fears, I have been choosing to create some beautiful smoke and mirrors. Keeping up appearances. 

I choose to believe that a magical, mystical life is not incompatible with living a life focused on accomplishing some goals, reaching for a dream, getting shit done. Now, if I believe it, then I must act like I believe it.