For Now, Relentlessly Onward / by Rebecca Tillett

Above all else, it is about leaving a mark that I existed: I was here. I was hungry. I was defeated. I was happy. I was sad. I was in love. I was afraid. I was hopeful. I had an idea and I had a good purpose …
— Felix Gonzalez-Torres

I'm on a journey to find my purpose. I haven't yet figured out if it's something I carelessly lost along the way somewhere a few miles back, a few years back, a few spins back or if it's something I've never truly had a firm grasp on - purpose has always felt like a moth or a butterfly fluttering by me occasionally. If I'm lucky, every now and then I'll cage it between my hands, marveling at it's elusive beauty but it always escapes, fluttering away to be caged by others inevitably. And others always seem to have a bit more luck in holding onto it for a bit longer than I.

I've been asked by several friends during this quest if I'm documenting it somehow, journaling; making audio recordings, writing, photographing. It pains me to say I haven't really been doing any of those things, aside from an occasional photo on Instagram. That's a piece of me that's been slowly, painfully, achingly, and regretfully dying the last few years; the relentless drive to write down and record my feelings, my emotions. I'm not denying the possibility that it may be too late to save her, the feeling and passionate woman in me but I sure as hell won't miss my chance to attempt resuscitation, no matter how weak or meager. I'm trying.

So here I am, sitting alone in an Albuquerque hotel room, having just packed all my things and readying myself to leave this city behind, like I left Phoenix behind on Saturday, like I left Vegas behind last Wednesday, like I left Colorado Springs, my husband of nearly 14 years, my two adorable kitties and my entire life behind last Sunday, and heading to my hometown, Las Cruces, NM: my next temporary destination. And at the culmination of this journey, what will I resolve to leave behind for good? That question has been paralyzing me and each morning I wake I'm just thankful that it's not something I have to decide today. Tomorrow, perhaps. But then, just as the butterfly always escapes my grasp, tomorrow is inevitable, isn't it?

For now, relentlessly onward...