No, the midwest is not for me. I definitely don't belong there. Going back there makes me feel like I'm suffocating, so there are no bearings to be had. My bearings are found in a hike through the mountains or a trip to the coast. Not a dinner out at Applebee's with my father.
My path has never been standard nor understood. I think of something Joseph Campbell wrote in the fourth volume of "The Masks of God." He said:
"For those who can still contrive to live within the fold of a traditional mythology of some kind, protection is still afforded against the dangers of an individual life; and for many the possibility of adhering in this way to established formula is a birthright they rightly cherish, since it will contribute meaning and nobility to their unadventured lives, from birth to marriage and its duties and, with the gradual failure of powers, a peaceful passage of the last gate. For, as the psalmist sings, 'Steadfast love surrounds him who trusts in the Lord'; and to those for whom such protection seems a prospect worthy of all sacrifice, an orthodox mythology will afford both the patterns and the sentiments of a lifetime of good repute. However, by those to whom such living would be not life, but anticipated death, the circumvallating mountains that to others appear to be of stone are recognized as of the mist of dream, and precisely between their God and Devil, heaven and hell, white and black, the man of heart walks through. Out beyond those walls, in the uncharted forest night, where the terrible wind of God blows directly on the questing undefended soul, tangled ways may lead to madness. They may also lead, however, as one of the greatest poets of the Middle Ages tells, to 'all those things that go to make heaven and earth.'"
I am a questing soul, but I've never left the path, so have found comfort neither in the patterns of traditional orthodoxy nor the vacillations of creative abandon. I've sunk into the cushiony pillows of the unexamined, anticipated life. I've been looking at those surrounding mountains too long to not trek out now and see if they really are of stone, or just the mist of dreams.
I once believed in the institution of marriage. But no more. All I can trust in is the stuff of life and what can be made of it. And I suppose this is how my XW feels; I'll give her that, because I understand.
[violins swell, lodo rides off into the sunset, alone ....]
