My therapist has challenged me with redefining my definition of "adventure".
Let me backup. There are days, many days, that I struggle with finding a balance between needing to sprint off on an adventure (as previously defined by myself), but also to stay put in this life I have chosen to pursue.
When she asked me what I thought I was doing that wasn't adventurous, I scoffed, looked her in the eyes and said with an off-handed wave, "Well, to start, I'm a part-time middle school art teacher."
She looked at me and quickly replied with an equal scoff, "To me that sounds like QUITE an adventure. Living in a small town you did not grow up in is an adventure. Getting married is an adventure. Having children - that is an adventure."
I guess it's all in how you look at it.
My past is what I would label (by my definition) as riddled with adventure. Go to art school in San Francisco in the summer! Open a wine bar/art gallery! Sell all your things and move to Northern Ireland!
By those bleak determinates, it has been approximately four years since my last adventure.
But according to my therapist, this is not true. Apparently adventure is what you make of it. We have the choice to live adventurously everyday. My challenge now is to find that adventure.
The truth is that I chose this life I'm living right now. I am doing what I want to do, and if not, I have the opportunity and ability to change directions. I LIKE being a part-time middle school art teacher.
So I'm going to start by finding the adventure.
And finally a picture of my cat using it as a bed because that is just a great way to end a post.
