TIME OUT

Iconic clock, Marshall Field & Co., Chicago, IL 

I have spent the past two weeks making the conscious effort to pay attention and notice the details of my hometown. Things I would normally take for granted as part of a hazy backdrop have clarified before my eyes, their outlines solidifying, their beauty becoming ever more pronounced. Chicago is a beautiful city, one rich with history. As I walk down its streets, enjoy the complex weave of its architectural diversity, and frequent my favorite local establishments, the question occurs to me, "Are you sure you want to leave?" My answer is a definite "yes," but it is an answer heavy with mixed emotion.

Chicago is a city rich with history, including my own. Usually, history manifests itself as a network of roots that dig deep into the earth and provide you with a firm foundation. At the same time, it can also weigh you down and prevent you from moving forward on the path that calls you forth. This is precisely my predicament. I am a proud Chicagoan, born and raised, and wherever I go that pride and history will move with me. But having lived out West, I realize that I need something else, something different. To live some place where nature is visibly present, surrounding you on all sides and suggestive of something larger and greater, a place where mountains shoulder the blue expanse of sky and desert opens its vastness like a bloom, this is a place that can nourish the soul. At this time in my life, I want something more than the familiarity of Chicago; I want this.

In the Tanakh, the Jewish Bible, G-d commands Abraham, "Lekh lekha." "Leave, leave to a place that I will show you." I don't pretend that my life or move carries such cosmological consequence, but I do believe life presents many of us with a lekh lekha moment. Do we remain chained to the familiar for comfort's sake, or do we allow for the discomfort that attends a creative rupture? I have moved away from Chicago three times before--twice to Colorado, then to New Mexico and Arizona--and each time I have returned to Chicago, but my most profound growth has occurred during these Western sojourns. This time the stay will be significantly longer term. In the Tanakh, when G-d calls out to Moses, the answer Moses replies is "Hineini"--"Here I am." And so I consider the challenge before me. Can I create a life elsewhere? Am I ready to try to envision and realize something new? And for now, my best, most ready answer is Hineini. Here I am.

So, in the effort to maintain this state of conscious presence, I will continue my photo essay of Chicago, in order to appreciate its beauty and uniqueness more deliberately, and to honor it as my hometown, even as I make my way homeward-bound. Hineini.