I rented Step Into Liquid last night. You know the one where Laird Hamilton and company surf sixty-footers. This entire movie is gorgeous and seems to hinge on the premise of surfing as the highest form of aesthetic living. After watching the movie, I’m going to have to go ahead and agree with that premise. Granted I have zero experience other than bobbing up and down in the Atlantic, but you can just see it in each of the surfers faces. For the old guys as they recall waves past you can tell they’re recalling the best moments of their lives. And for the young guys you can tell they are completely fired up by the immediate moment.

So naturally after watching the movie Mary and I spent all morning looking up graduate school information on Hawaii. I still think my dream state is California, but I wouldn’t argue against a couple years spent in Aloha land.

I’ve been in a funk the past couple of days that not even five days off from work, playing in the snow with the dogs, or hours and hours of video games can cure. I’m in a funk because I wasted my airline voucher by my own choice. My trip was booked. My bags were packed. I was literally standing at the gate watching my flight board when I turned around and walked out of the airport.

The problem was I gave myself the option of not going. I second guessed if the trip was worth it. I argued to myself that it would suck hiking around by myself. I’d be bored, lonely, wishing I were home. What I really needed I thought was just some relaxing time away from work, at home where everything is comfortable. I brought money into the equation. Save the car rental money for some other trip when you’ll really enjoy it. Hey it’s was a free ticket after all, I rationalized. Outside forces worked against me. First I realized that I had forgotten my water purifier. A sign, I questioned? Then my flight out of Grand Rapids was delayed forty minutes, giving me the extra time to make my fateful decision. If my flight is on time, I’m camping right now. I’m not good with weighing options.

I felt stupid almost immediately. But the decision was made. I walked briskly to avoid hearing my name announced on the loud speaker at final boarding call. Only I would know, but I would be embarrassed nonetheless. I slumped in my car and clenched my jaw as I drove. I felt neither regret nor contentment with the choice. Only anger. When did I start taking the easy (boring) way? When have I ever chosen relaxation over adventure?

I’ve been feeling low ever since. I feel like I’m losing my defining spirit. I’m becoming an armchair adventurer. I look up pictures of surfing on the Internet and have a calender of exotic islands on my wall. But when am I going to learn to ride a board or see Fiji in person? Or for that matter when am I even going to get back on an indoor climbing wall? I’ll be twenty-six this month. That seems so old. That’s when people are moving up toward associate in their career or graduating from med school. But that’s also when most people with that free spirit fire are climbing their peaks and kayaking their rapids. I, on the other hand, am settling for a job I can tolerate in a city which offers me nothing of interest.

I’m by no means unhappy. My home environment puts me at peace like nothing I’ve ever experienced. But this also means that the highlight of every day for me is coming home to be with my wife and dogs. My happiness is tied up in who I love and who loves me. Granted, this probably is the best thing you ever could tie your happiness to, but I just hate feeling like I’m losing those characteristics that so define me. I’m not lusting for each new day. I’m not leaping out of bed as the sun rises in anticipation of what the day will bring. My body and brain are not challenged. Most importantly my heart isn’t challenged. This will change. It has to.