You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, I told him, like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way ever again. 

Azar Nafisi

I was born, raised, and educated in North Carolina, a place in which my subconscious tangles my dreams, fears, and desires—a constellation of childhood play, adolescent anxieties, and young adult refinement. I’ll have lived a quarter of a century this Halloween, all of it in North Carolina. It’s time for me to leave this state of both residence and being.

I’m going to Boston. But why am I leaving?

The short answer can lay blame on my significant other (i.e., he had to move there, so I follow). But short explanations, without due contemplation, can carelessly undermine the complexity and nuance of life.

I value the insight of my friends and family, and so, when nearly all of them advised me not to go to Boston, I carefully considered their opinions. They were looking out for me. Most told me “because we know you, and we don’t think you would thrive there.” Most thought I needed more time to consider. Most thought it silly to go to Boston with Yukun, for a partner, for a significant other.

Yukun applied to jobs across the nation for an opportunity to have a company sponsor his work visa—a visa that’s under the pressure of time, at least until he’s accepted into a Ph.D. program. That’s why he flew to Boston on Halloween 2021, for a chance of sponsorship at his new company. He’s from China on a student visa. How could I blame him?

When I asked my best friend’s dad, who’s known me for nearly 10 years, if he thinks I should go to Boston, he said no and gave forth insightful wisdom about what he sees in me.

As we sat across from each other, in a living room in which I’ve spent many nights dancing, crying, laughing, and goofing around with friends, falling down stairs, falling into Christmas trees, and drinking more than God intended, we shared a candid conversation.

I said to him:

“I’m going to Boston because I want to be with Yukun. I want to experience new things with him. I want to go with the flow, and see where our relationship goes. And it’s not a lifetime commitment. I can stay here, stay stagnant in this job I hate, doing the same old things, living in the same old place, with the same old problems. It’s time for me to change and leave this place. I feel it within my gut. I owe it to myself to go on this adventure. What do I have to lose?”

And he replied:

“If and when you start to doubt yourself when you’re in Boston, tell yourself what you just told me—because that’s all that matters, and not what anyone else thinks.”

Letting Go

Perhaps Yukun prophesized, or, as our minds do, I internalized his words and orchestrated energies into a manifestation for change. In late summer 2021, before he left for Boston, he said to me: “Let go of the past. Change is inevitable, so embrace it.” An incredible theme of my 2022 is letting go and embracing transformation: changing jobs, moving across states, and healing my mind.

I have not historically embraced change. I never have. Anxiety reigned supreme as I stood like a concrete block rooted ten feet underground, an immovable psychological structure, against the tides the Ocean, against the flows of the River, against the changes of the Wind. And what fun is that? To struggle against the flow? To resist?

Alan Watts once said:

“I remember once I was looking in the open air, and one of those glorious little thistledown things came. And I picked it up, like that, and brought it down. And it looked as if it was struggling to get away just as if you caught an insect by one leg—like a daddy longlegs or something of that kind. It seemed to be struggling to get away. And first I thought, ‘Well, it’s not doing that. That’s just the wind blowing.’ Then I thought again. ‘Really? Only the wind blowing?’ Surely, it is the structure of this thing which, in cooperation with the existence of wind, enables it to move like an animal—but using the wind’s effort, not its own. It is a more intelligent being than an insect, in a way, because an insect uses effort. Like a person who rows a boat uses effort, but the man who puts up a sail is using magic: He let nature do it for him with the intelligence to use a sail. You see?”

Embracing change, letting go, and going with the flow are not refined skills of mine. I believe that is why, in this life, I was born a Scorpio—to learn how to embrace and understand the one constant of this Universe.

The Scorpion is a symbol of transformation: birth, death, rebirth. In the myth of the Scorpion, he transforms through three stages: Scorpion to Eagle to Phoenix by metamorphosis. The most ascended form of the Scorpio is the Phoenix—a mythical creature with a capability divine: resurrection. The Phoenix transcends the chains of attachment. So, if I am attached, how can I flow? How can I change? How can I go where the wind wants to take me?

Happiness or Peace?

The last six months have focused on change because I was unhappy; I was restless in both mind and body. I loathed my job, my significant other moved 850 miles away, and I was perpetually depressed and anxious. So I went to the doctor, I got a new job (which I absolutely adore!), and I found a place to live in Boston (with Yukun). And these successes were achieved through a desire to burn away the old rotting parts of me. I deeply wanted change, no matter if it hurt. And there were times when it felt bitterly hopeless, and I was just plodding through the darkness.

My goal, though, is not to live a happy life. Happiness, generally, is an immature goal.

I am here to cultivate my inner peace. And if I can be at peace with myself—in my heart and in my mind—then I endure any climate of life in which I may find myself. And I want to share that peace with the world.

Happiness then is only an emotion, and, though emotion is fundamental to what makes us human, we need not let it control us. Firstly, emotions are chaotic and thus should be mastered. Secondly, they are ephemeral, and what fun would it be if we were in one constant state of emotion, forever? I guess I’m more so articulating with precision here: I was constantly experiencing unhappiness, which thus usually leads to a state of depression—far worse than a bout of discontent. I want to experience happiness, I want to experience elation and joy and excitement, but I also want to experience sadness and sorrow and disappointment. That is the human experience.

Because of the changes I created, I’m consistently more energetic and cheerful, and, even more astoundingly, I experience frequent moments of calm, both bodily and mentally, about who I am and the direction toward which I’m moving. Part of my peace is eliminating the demons of my subconscious mind. Another is being with someone I love and sharing life with them. And via my inital job out of college, I realized how immensely I value performing meaningful work. And these things bring me more than the occasional smile or happy delight. They are cultivating peace.

The Meaning of Life

I am learning to love the mysterious and chaotic orchestrations of the Wind. It’s fun. And though life is full of suffering, that suffering will not be reduced unless I do something about it. That’s where I find meaning: in the adoption of responsibility for reducing the suffering in my life and of those around me.

Lessening our suffering allows for a more pleasant life. And, with a more pleasant mode of being and state of living conditions, we can more freely enjoy the passage of time. And so, I took responsibility for my mind, my depression and anxiety, my career aspirations, and my goal to move away to a new place and share life with the one I love.

Because that’s what it’s about to me. That’s the hierarchical menagerie of answers I’m piecing together. The meaning of life: Letting go of attachment, embracing change, reducing suffering, creating a pleasant life, and enjoying the passage of time.

Okay—whew. I’m glad I got that all out.

So, I hear they don’t have biscuits and gravy in Boston. Is that true? No Bojangles? What about the humidity? And Krispy Kreme? The winter winds will trick me into believing I’m on Neptune.

Friends, never take yourself too seriously. And remember—we’re all in this together.

See you in Boston.