California
Isn't leaving California the most Californian thing to do?
Weekly Three
HEAR: The smoothest sh*t. “I Like It (I Wanna Be Where You Are)” by Grand Puba
READ: Apparently, sex can increase your lifespan (if performed correctly).
VIEW: The Chimney Swift gives an artistic glimpse into the claustrophobic world of the child chimney sweepers of 19th-century London.
No. 62: California
One week is all that’s left between me and Illinois residency. Trust me when I say it’s been a rollercoaster of emotions since the day I decided to move. Know, though, that none of the twists, turns, or loopty-loops are unwelcome. This is the adventure I signed up for. That the adventure would begin before I started driving eastward was a surprise, that’s all.
The top two emotions leading up to my departure? Excitement and melancholia. Sometimes it’s excitement, sometimes it’s melancholia, but most of the time its both swirling together to make that potent cocktail, uncertainty.
This feeling, I think, is the mark of any true adventure. I write “true” because if all were planned, if all were certain, if all were stolid confidence as we approach some new thing, how can we call it an adventure? Uncertainty there must be when embarking on an . . .
Adventure (n) — an unusual or exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity
Melancholia comes when I think of all the beautiful things I will leave behind. My family, my friends, California sunshine, familiar hiking trails and bike paths, favorite restaurants, walks around the lake, Archer’s go-to dog park, my apartment, etc.
Excitement comes when I think of all the new experiences ahead of me. New friends, snow, walks around a different lake, discovering new hiking trails and bike paths, finding new restaurants, exploring Chicago, letting Archer out into a yard, a house to call my own, etc.
My girlfriend matches my excited moods more often than the melancholic ones because she wants what’s best for me. We are going to her native land. She doesn’t want to feel like she’s taken a bird out of paradise. When I feel nostalgic for things that aren’t even in the past yet, she quietly consoles me or says nothing at all.
But she doesn’t have to worry.
Of course, I haven’t arrived in Illinois yet, but in the meantime I’ve come to see that it’s not just possible, it’s natural to miss the old and embrace the new simultaneously. That I will miss many aspects of my life here in California doesn’t mean I won’t embrace all the new to come in Illinois. Likewise, an embrace of all that’s new in Illinois doesn’t represent a split from all that I love in California.
And, really, isn’t that the most cosmopolitan perspective? Isn’t that the proper Californian approach? Isn’t leaving California the most Californian thing to do?
Bidding a final farewell to the past and blazing new trails is the California transplant’s pastime, not those who grew up here. My leaving isn’t a subtle rebellion against my home state. Rather, it’s a push off the docks of my home shore to see what else is out there. I’ll never forget where my true home is.
I have California to thank for that mindset, because, here, we seek new perspectives. Here, we seek to get out of our comfort zones. Here, we challenge ourselves. Here, we seek to learn. Here, we seek to immerse ourselves in new and different cultures. Here, we seek to discover. Here, we seek to understand. Here, we accept all walks of life. Here, we tire of too much of the same. Here, we seek adventure by kicking over rocks unturned.
California, like a caring mother, raises us with the principles of empathy, surrounds us with new ideas, strengthens us with towering mountains to climb and pristine waters to swim in, not so we can settle-in and stay forever, but so that we can go.
And so, I go. ♦
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