Nearly ten years ago, I was house-sitting in a flat outside of London. I don’t remember the circumstances, but I received an email from someone I was networking with. He said, “Why are you traveling? What are you hoping to find?”

I never thought of a good response. To be honest, I don’t think I even answered the guy. It’s a question that I think I can never answer. It’s too open-ended.

The truth is, so much of my travel and my writing projects are spontaneous, and without reason. There isn’t a logical conclusion to art and purpose, I find. I was reminded of this while watching Field of Dreams as a part of my Drifty List, #85.

If you haven’t seen it, Field of Dreams is like a fever dream. The lead, Ray, builds a baseball field on his farm, cutting out a huge portion of his primary crop, corn. At the risk of losing his farm, Ray continues to seek out baseball players with unfinished business and marvels as their ghosts begin to appear on his field. It’s a mystical, superstitious film all about wishful thinking and intuition. Of course, it resonates with me deeply.

At the beginning of the film, Ray mentions that he’s “36 and has never done anything crazy in his life.” I’m 36 now, and while I’ve done plenty of crazy things, I’ve recently reignited my passion for storytelling, allowing myself to go where I’m called, both literally and metaphorically. I’m currently writing this from a bed at an Airbnb outside of Cape Cod. I’m here to write an article for one of my finals and frustrated by the lack of response over email by local restaurants and markets, I decided to drive out myself. At least, that’s what I told my mom when she asked why I was coming out to Cape Cod when I’m already going to California next weekend.

The truth is, in many cases, I feel called to go places. The voice that Ray hears in the movie, tells him to go out into the world and find ball players? I’ve heard that voice my entire life. Maybe not literally, but in the sense that I feel it. There’s always been a point where something undefinable and otherworldly has told me to leap, and in response, I have. My earliest memory of it was when I was a child, naturally gifted at both drawing and writing.

You can only be the best at one, something seemed to tell me.

So I chose writing.

After watching Field of Dreams, which I hadn’t watched since childhood (and barely remember), I felt justified in my decision to follow the Phillies around this summer. Since I decided to go, I’ve questioned it – not because of any doubts, but more because of the purpose of it. What could I contribute to the world of baseball? I’m by no means an expert. It’s been years since I played.

I don’t have the answers, but I believe in the voice. My voice, that is. There’s a road here to follow, once that I started walking a long time ago. And whenever I forget why, I start writing. Because “the one constant through all the years,” for me, has been writing. “I’m gonna write about it. That’s what I do.”