The Places and Things We Chase

Are they really what we crave?

The chase for most of us is for things. Or thing adjacent. Or a vague concept, when getting to the bottom line, again, involves another thing. It isn’t until we get to a certain point in our lives that we realize that, as your mother, priest, or best friend tells you, the thing you are chasing will not be what fulfills you in the end.

And that is travel for me. It is a thing I am chasing, the never-ending search for the new, the different, the unexplained. The flags flying in Nepal. The warm noodles in Southeast Asia. The onsen in Japan. I’m not asking for a lot.

Maybe for you, it’s a career you believe you are destined to have. That passion or interest that pulls you toward something or pushes you out of your comfort zone. But step back a second. Is it really what you need or want deep in your soul? Or is it the thing again—that need for safety, security, comfort—the drive for the ultimate thing that we, as predominantly Americans, crave. Is it the money?

And when you’ve reached that stage in life where you have enough (and as an aside, just HOW MUCH is enough), are you now satisfied? Did you make it? Have you come to the point where that passionate craving has been fulfilled? Or is there something still out there floating just beyond your grasp, something very faintly outlined that has no form, no concept, full of nothingness but yearning?

Well, what is it?

While I can describe what I believe my craving might be, I cannot put my finger on exactly what it is. Or what it isn’t. I look to Bhutan and long for a hike, yet I know I’m no longer physically able to handle that altitude. Canned oxygen can only do so much. I look at Bangkok, and my soul thrills at the thought of wandering through the city. Yet is that really what I want?

Deep down, my longing begins with a desperate need for routine. Location, honestly, isn’t important. There is coffee at 8:00, the walk at 8:30, and the writing at 9:00. Lunch at noon, playtime at 3.

Yet there is still something missing.

While the routine fulfills, it doesn't satisfy that void. What is it truly that I crave? I’ve spent time thinking about it just before yet another (!) surgery. (I promise you that once you’re in that freezing cold pre-op room with only your toes for entertainment for two hours, you will think through these things as well.)

So what do I want? If everything went to hell in a handbasket today, what would I miss? What would I dream of having again?

It is that warmth somewhere around 10:00, the slightest touch on the back of my neck, where the hair is pulled softly to one side. The slightest of kisses placed just so, then the hair returned to its place. No sound, no words, no interruption to my flow, just support, warmth, acceptance, and recognition. It is the satisfaction deep within my soul, the understanding that I’ve finally reached the nirvana that I crave.

Yes, there are all the things—the sex, the travel, the children, the places we call home. All those things surround me, and I’m enveloped with the love, the safe, secure surroundings, the place to hide when I’m scared. Yet at their basest level, they are still things.

My yearning is comforted by these things, yet the release comes only from that touch, the slightest squeeze of my hand when we walk, the mischievous grin he thinks I don’t see when he believes he’s gotten away with something. The coffee mug that is placed in my hand in the morning when I’m still not quite awake.

These are what I crave, what I will miss if they are no longer there. Because of our lives, our work, our travels, our desperate rush to grab the things, we are apart more than we are together. And we’ve learned that things don’t fulfill us, even when they make our lives easier.

It is the touch, the breath, the warmth of the bed on a cool morning, and the steam from that first cup of coffee placed every so gently in my hand that I crave.

Him.