I want to write about longing. What it is to feel pulled to a different life than the one you’re living – and to resist that pull. Existing in a constant tension between what you desire and what you think is possible, practical, reasonable, admirable. Putting service above satisfaction. Feeling ungrateful and ashamed for not being content with the status quo, when many would give the world to be in your shoes.

That’s a feeling I’ve had, off and on, for much of my life. I was bred to be of service. Jesus and others and then you – or what’s left of you after giving so much away. Striving to be worthy of my high calling. A Christian soldier with all the discipline that implies.

But I’ve always felt that longing to be free. To explore and imagine, create and express myself. Just for the pleasure of feeling the sun on my skin and the wind on back, my body in motion on a forest trek or stretched out on a blanket looking up to the sky. Daydreaming, playing with the ideas that pop into my head to see where they might take me. Putting my thoughts down on paper and sharing them with a receptive audience. 

Here’s a blog post I wrote a decade ago when I was in the grip of this tension.

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I want to quit my job, sell my house and car, buy a cute little Mini Cooper. Pack it up and take off on a long road trip, skipping like a stone from beach to  beach. Hole up in a series of cabins by the water and write to my heart’s content. 

What I do instead is get up every morning and go to work, do my best to do my  duty and make some kind of difference wherever I am. I put a new roof on the  house, wash and wax the old Solara, stretch the budget to make ends meet, try to do a little writing every day. 

I want to shout “you are good enough” from every rooftop. But I teach courses on how to get better at one thing or another, how to get from one place to another,  how to bridge what gaps there may be between here and there. 

I shoulder my responsibilities like a pilgrim, with more pathos than passion. What I want is to lay my burdens down and travel light, follow the path of the Holy Fool, not always sure where I’m headed, a blessing wherever I go. 

I’m told this is just the way life is. You can’t always have what you want. Should I succumb to the inevitable? Continue to pursue the ineffable? Transform  my mind through the practice of gratitude? Adopt a more meditative stance? 

Prudence is a friend of mine. She promises to look after me in my old age. But the voice that whispers what I want says, “Even the good girls die.”

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I never did get that Mini Cooper. But I did set myself free. Let go of some limiting beliefs about what was good and worthy and of service. Reimagined Lifescapers as a vehicle for this service. For those who, like me, are called to live with creativity and imagination, curious to see where that might take us. 

Living free takes courage. It isn’t always comfortable. What I mean to offer through Lifescapers is a map of the territory, the services of a guide who has been travelling this way for a while, and a company of fellow adventurers because this doesn’t have to be a lonely journey. For you or for me.

Three morals in this story:

1. You are worthy of the life you long for.
2. Service comes in many forms.
3. Even the good girls die.

Yours with creativity and imagination,

Darlene