There is an understandable attraction to the remote South Pacific Ocean or Indian Ocean. I have no doubt the beauty there is incalculable though it is not on my radar. The limit of my compass prohibits such imagination even.
In the past year I have been in the back of two ambulances; and I am informed that my heart stopped a succession of times. Given my prior history of emergency open-heart surgery, this doesn't bode well for a presumption of immortality. Therefore I consider my capitulation to reality neither misguided nor pusillanimous. Frankly the acquiescence appeals to my philosophic bent as well (something to do with accepting what is). I will however confess as readily that a year ago my present circumstances were contemplated by me as a final outpost beyond which I would have no regret. Having made it here is therefore a palpable relief if I am to be perfectly honest.
Sitting on a bench at Bayfront Park adjacent Sarasota Bay or lounging by the pool on the Gulf of Mexico is not exactly hard times. Passing over the magnificent bridge from Sarasota onto Longboat Key is a positive relief (getting away from anything urban).
There persists the need (or the perception of need) to get on one's horse and ride off in all directions. But I am aware of the mistake of having lots going on and nothing happening. It wouldn't be the first time we've battled with the addiction to perpetual change - and the error of leaving the very place one was so anxious to go to. Once you've reached the summit it's only downhill.