I don't know where I am as you read this. I may be at my home in Dallas, Texas or on an extended road trip through the Pacific Northwest or the swamps of Louisiana. I may be in the depths of a depression or in a state of euphoric appreciation of the wonders of the natural world. I might be sitting alone, reflecting as I watch the tide come in on a desolate stretch of Padre Island off the Texas coast, or I may be swilling tequila and dancing badly with a group of women who neither know me or care about me but who haven't sent me packing, at least not yet.
From one day to the next, I don't know where I am. It's easier to know where I am physically than mentally, but that's becoming more of a challenge since I decided to take at least a year's sabbatical from owning and operating a small business. Leaving my business for awhile has given me a little more freedom to move about, so I can just decide on the spur of the moment to hit the road. I may not know where I am, physically. Mentally, it's even tougher. Maybe "mental" is not the right root. Maybe I should say it's tough to know where I am emotionally. I can allow the world around me to influence my emotional state to a far greater extent than I might like. But, then, that's probably a lie, isn't it? None of us "allow" the world to do anything to our emotional states that's not to our "liking." If we allow it, something within us must like it. Otherwise, we wouldn't allow it.
The answer to the question you may have expected to find when you opened this page isn't going to be found on this page. It is more likely to be found on the most recent post to this blog. But I won't guarantee it. You may have to see through shadows to get the answer you're seeking.
