I ended up watching a movie Chasing Mavericks tonight, or at least the last third of it. It felt like a Nicholas Sparks movie at first, a palpable love movie that makes you feel too much and yearn for the type of love that only exists in Nicholas Sparks books. I don't think there's another way to explain that. Soap opera love, the love that pulls you in and you want to fight the obstacles that face the star crossed lovers. A Meredith and Derek love (notice I didn't say Liv and Fitz). I wasn't in the mood for that kind of emotional involvement. But I couldn't see the remote and getting up to find it required way more energy than I had to spare.
Originally, I thought that my post would be about that. How movies and books that portray love in that light, kind of set people up for failure.
Chasing Mavericks is a true story about a 16 year old boy that loved surfing and trained to surf Mavericks, aka big ass waves that no one should be on ever. He felt drawn to the water, his father was a surfer, he felt like he belonged on the water, he felt called to be there. He didn't believe he was long for this world, and he wasn't, 7 years after his first Maverick he died in a diving accident. He left behind his wife who was his childhood sweetheart (and the reason why it felt Nicholas Sparksy).
I don't think I know anyone that felt a calling that way. That felt drawn to do something with all of their being. I enjoy writing and reading, and my life is better when I'm able to do those things but I don't think I'd say I'm drawn to them. Maybe lightly tugged on. It seems to me that most people spend so much of their lives trying to figure out what it is that they should be doing, that being able to feel that pull must be freeing in some ways. One less thing to try and figure out while we're here.
I'm not sure what my Maverick is. I'm sure there has to be one, and it isn't eating chicken. It's easier to move forward when you know what you're after.