ELVÁGYÁDÁS

We were moving out of state. All the signs were in place.

The machine started its engine and cogs gained momentum. Dragonflies emerged from watery depths and followed us as though they were tethered to our shoulders. (Many cultures consider the presence of a dragonfly to represent change or transformation.) The house was prepped. Pictures were taken. All that was left, was an official document with a signed signature.

We were anxious and excited to experience yet another new culture, a new society. The luring desire to wander once again filled our senses and we were prepared to answer the call of the heavily populated east coast metropolis.

Turns out, the Universe had other worldly plans.

It’s also possible that a good friend or family member cursed us so our residence stays in this small town where the closest gourmet meal is a forty-minute drive. And let’s not forget how the whole community knows when someone poops purple, or however other people poop. I actually never asked my neighbors. Hmmm, maybe a New Year’s resolution?  

Not only is this a small community; it’s a farming county. Just beyond our subdivision, the only sight for a gazillion miles, or so it feels, is corn and soy beans. Whoo-Hoo! I mean, even the adjacent towns have Christmas tree lighting ceremonies that could have been filmed for a Hallmark movie.

Low and behold, an opportunity dropped into our backyard like that drone someone shot down last week. It was a new challenge, a new plane of existence to experience a new way of living. And that is where I think everything fell apart. We pseudo-craved the concept of Wanderlust.

Wanderlust, according to the internet so it has to be true, is defined as a strong, innate desire to rove or travel. In our past, the best way to experience other cultures isn’t to stay a week in a resort and take pictures of all the tourist attractions, but rather to live in that region. I mean, what better way to fully dive into a new social construct, right?

Well, I did a bit more research and something crazy came out of the computer box thingy.

A Hungarian word you should practice pronouncing on your own time–Elvágyádás. It has nothing to do with actual traveling, as Wanderlust is defined; but it is a desire of wanting to get away. It’s as though your current situation isn’t quite right, but you don’t know where to go or how to fix it. All you know, is you need a change.

Have you ever had a craving for something more than what this life has given you up until this point? Heard keywords that trigger your stomach to twist into a tight ball and the only way to untie the knot is to escape far away from the person or place that wrenched your gut? I think that’s the best way to describe elvágyádás.

Or maybe you feel like your life sucks and the only way to make it better is to pick up all your belongings and move to a new place where no one knows you. A sense of wanting to start over. That too is elvágyádás.

Yes, there’s a but…

What if all those emotions of feeling bad about yourself follow you? Then what? Your lustful adventure comes to a screeching halt and before you know it, you’re back into the hole you started digging years prior.

Which leads us back to the idea of moving to the east coast during a pandemic. Dumb!

Is it possible that our residence hasn’t changed because The Universe knows more than we could ever comprehend?

Maybe we are still in this small community, where everyone knows our poop schedule, to merely accomplish something, like finish a project we didn’t know we started. Maybe there’s some healing that needs to happen or forgiveness to occur before the opportunity is perfect to Wanderlust rather than Elvágyádás. Maybe the reason is as simple as sometimes change isn’t always environmental or demographic…perhaps, the best change comes from within.