The Frontier as Motivation.

The frontier is a curious thing. To many people in American history--Anglo-American folks, anyway--it has represented things like endless opportunity, hope, and independence. It was something to be pursued, and pursued in earnest. To other folks--those who called the frontier home--the idea of the frontier as an object to be obtained by others only meant an impending, if not inevitable, doom.

Doom. Inevitable doom. God, that is an awful feeling. As far as life goes, I wish I could say that I pursued hope, but I feel like it is more often that I am fleeing doom more than anything else. I suppose there isn't a difference, when you leave perspective out of it. Maybe motivation is the more curious thing. 

I don't know why I think about the frontier as a concept, rather than a place and point in time. Academically, I study it and the way it tends to permeate isolated aspects of our cultural history. But, I think that is more an effect than a cause. There is a lot that I don't know about myself, though. Or, perhaps I do, but I just don't want to think about it. It's easier that way.