San Francisco is not so different. There are leaves that change and families that carve pumpkins and real relationships that happen. It’s not so strange here.
The city often feels surreal to me. Fake, temporary, isolated. It makes it hard for me to build a life for myself. It makes it hard to feel settled. But the novelty is wearing off. I’m no longer awed by stretches of people in costume, hoards of lesbians, Dolores park or the ocean. It feels commonplace and over time I’ve forgotten to be grateful. And it’s that lack of gratitude that has made it so difficult for me to feel real here.
Once again I find myself searching for some purpose. Searching for that next step. And I think it’s leading me out of San Francisco. Not forever, but for a few months.
I’ve long ignored my faith. It has fueled who I am, the decisions I make for myself, but I have not given it the attention it deserves. I haven’t studied or committed or sacrificed and I think it’s time. Time to put my faith first and see where that leads me. Perhaps it will lead me back to a humbler, more authentic me.
Part of me feels like this would be running away. From what I’m not sure. From relationships, feeling to settled, complacency, happiness, community. Why is it that I search for the hard times? What is my real calling?
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