The search for calling, for purpose, is an inside out effort by its very nature. The sensation of something missing, the craving and obsession to go out into the world in search of our fate and destiny, is possibly the most misinterpreted impulse we possess.
Why must we strike out on our own into the blinding light of the unknown? What is it that makes some of us feel that there is an ever-present wind blowing at our backs urging us to move out, away, in some form of pilgrimage while yet others are compelled to remain in the safety of the familiar, trading the pains of acclimation for the acceptance of atrophied ambition. And which, on balance, is the greater sacrifice?