The Transient Psyche
Travelers, wanderers, experience seekers, however defined, we all share a common action in our various escapades, and that is movement. One day you’re in X train station, the next day at a biergarten on the Rhône, the following, running through the streets of San Francisco dressed as a sparkly pair of lips. You gain enough momentum and before you know it, your memory card is full, all of your underwear is dirty, and you find yourself wondering again, “Where am I going to sleep tonight?” It’s a riveting road, faces and fuzziness and new smells, tastes, sounds, enough to smother the gratification from time spent in front of a computer or any ongoing monotony that may last longer than a month… 
You get the idea: I’m describing wanderlust. The by-product of wanderlust, traveling, has its own repercussion, or side effect. That is transience. It accompanies anyone’s voyages, abroad, across the U.S.A., in a tranquil national park.. It becomes addicting, yet after a long enough period (this varies for all, sometimes budget has a lot to do with it), one begins to yearn for “stability” or “home.” I can relate to this vacillation, especially during longer periods abroad. After just 12 days of sleeping on a wooden board in a leaky van, any mattress sounds like a Temperpedic. We all have our tolerance levels/comfort zones/adaptation abilities, but what goes up must eventually have an address (maybe).
Yes, humans were originally hunter-gatherers. We did not stick in one place just because “it’s pretty,” or, “i had some good kills-er, times here.” Living space was premised on availability of food and shelter. My guess: traveling and exploration of the unknown have flourished to this day not ONLY out of curiosity and desire to connect with others around the globe, or educational, business, and even conquering ventures, but ALSO, because we’re wired to move. It’s in our GENES (and jeans – one pair for six months? Yes please!). 
The problem with this desire to wander is that it eventually becomes a proclivity to do so. Exhausting, yet riveting, aimlessly drifting eventually wears on every noble traveler. Throw in a volunteer stint, or a seasonal job to prime the bank account for more wandering, and that adds a whole new dimension to the adventure. However, at the point that one decides to “settle down,” even if still away from “home,” he or she may immediately notice an uncanny reaction: to do just the opposite and continue wandering. Repulsion of oddities at the newest “residence,” anxiety toward the idea of getting “stuck,” desperation and the insatiable will to continue doing “new” things in “new” places.. Human nature sure is funny. Always wanting the opposite, even if it took so much effort to get there.
Over the years, my transient self has subsisted with continuous movement: countless travels, over 19 moves, 25 jobs (only the ones lasting more than two weeks), 6 cars (most of them sold to fund travels), friends, dog, bikes.. While these stats don’t define or sum up what I’ve lived amid the movement, I think they are fair indicators of the volume of it, hence the inclination to continue..
The biggest takeaway from this is that I have chosen to coexist with this element of my being instead of compete with it. For example, in moving to Mammoth, I knew I would be done with it from the beginning after being there a mere 6 months. On the contrary, moving to Portland, I planned on spending at least 2 years there, without putting an “end” to it, but rather, working with the idea that I’d re-evaluate after my goal was complete. Each place has indeed helped me shape what I believe to be an ideal life situation. I still find myself wondering about the next move, looking ahead to the next year, saying, “I’d like to see myself…” I always draw on the past movements for a reference, sometimes miss them a bit. At least there’s some respite in knowing it’s all for some good reason and I usually get a lot out of whatever I make of the present moment anyway, right?
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