Maine is Calling and I Must Go

Figure out what you want. I hope you find what you're searching for. Praying you find clarity on your trip. I hope you get what you want.

Wow. All statements I've heard multiple times in the last several days and weeks. Kinda makes me feel like an insecure, randomly epic failure. Or as I was told, like a kid in a candy store, unable to make a decision.

Will I ever grow up? Will I really decide what I want to be, eventually? Or rather, and maybe more importantly, WHO I want to be?

Who do I want to be? I know I want to be kind, giving, and fearlessly faithful. I hear that if we decide who we want to be that what we want to be will naturally follow. I'm not certain I'm feeling it.

Forgive my ramblings, but writing seems to help make sense of the world around me.

I wrote the previous sentences several days ago, after first arriving in Camden, Maine. You may know that just over three years ago, my daughter and I took a trip along the east coast and landed in Camden, having our party we were traveling with "abandon" us there, on purpose. This tiny, picturesque, eclectic village and the surrounding sea has been calling to my soul ever since. So I came back.

I came back to heed the call. To try to figure if it was really a call or rather a warning signal or fog horn or what. I wanted to spend some time here, vegging out, writing, thinking, praying, feeling.

My trip took a bit of a different twist, though, when I asked my folks to come along with me. I knew that if and when I do end up in Maine, they, with their climbing ages and sliding ability to get around easily, might not ever be able to visit me here, so I brought them along to see the coast and what I've been talking about for the last three years. So, I haven't exactly stopped and spent my time writing and thinking as much as I had desired, rather I've been entertaining the old folks and visiting places I might not have visited had they not been along. So, it's all been good, just different than what I had initially planned.

I'm sitting in a window seat in the Camden Public Library as I write. The window I chose overlooks the yard and gazebo of the library, the park and amphitheater, all of which are bordered by Camden Harbor. I'm watching the ships move about, some busy with the locals, geared up in wet weather garb and layers, some taking tourists on day trips, others sitting comfortably at their docks, awaiting their next and possibly close to last voyage for the season.  I have joked the last three years that I could move to Camden and be the librarian, but after sitting in this window, I don't find as much twisted humor in that as before.

It's not an easily explainable thing to try and make others understand how your soul, your very being, the reason for your existence, can be drawn to a particular place. I felt that pull the first time we visited atop Mt. Battie and were overlooking Camden Harbor and Penobscot Bay. Three years later, I felt that same sense as I arrived back in Camden late on a Monday night. Nearly two weeks later, sitting in a window seat in the library, I still feel that pull. But it's not a negative thing. Like I said, it's hard to explain, but it's a sense of belonging. A feeling in your gut that whatever you're supposed to accomplish in life is supposed to happen right here. A realization that the purpose you were put on this earth for is to be played out here, in this spot. It's a feeling that you've reached your destination. You've made it. You're home, now. You can take your shoes off and put your feet up because the rest of whatever you face will be easier now. You're home.

I think if you are lucky enough to find and be in that place, you're one of the luckiest people on earth. Don't get me wrong, I do believe we have the ability to make most any 'place' a home and we can decide to be happy where we are. But sometimes life throws us curveballs that make us see things differently. More independently. More colorful. More out loud. And I don't think we should settle just because we are where we are and we get comfortable. Sometimes the most beautiful of situations come from the most uncomfortable decisions. It's often then that we rise from the ashes and become a shining, polished stone after being tossed and rolled and cast aside.

I believe it's nearly impossible for us to fill someone else's mold. Oh, we can push and squeeze ourself in for a time, we can get excited about someone else's dream or agenda or vision. But eventually, we will realize that we don't change shape so easily. Not to the extent of making someone else's passion ours. Our passions come from within, not without. We must realize and decide our own passions. We may share the same passions with others, but there will always be a bit of a different dream or desire or speed of pursuance, making our own passion ours. And, I don't believe that our passions will work us to the bone. Meaning, we won't ask our passion to make our life livable. I believe our passions should be left alone to be just that and not be required to be our lifeline. If we let them grow and bloom, the possibilities and probabilities that will come from them will be exponential.

So what does my passion have to do with Camden, Maine? Well, if I had my druthers, I'd sit right here on this window seat or down on the pier every day and write to my hearts content! For a creative, I think the physical place we are in makes a lot of difference in our creativity. Add to that the place your soul is calling you to, and you've got a gold mine.

But, life and circumstances warrant that I must continue on with where I have been placed for the time being. So, I will continue on. I am working on a new site and format for my writing, which brings so much clarity to my heart and soul and hopefully some good encouragement to others. Life is good in the Missouri Midwest, full of family, good friends, and an abundance of a growing community to fellowship with.

Will I eventually end up in Camden, Maine? Very possibly. I did make some good contacts of fellow farmers and resources while there. But I'm not packing my bags just yet. After all, there are still many things to accomplish here in the Midwest seasons of my life.