What if?

What would happen if ...

I went to Bangladesh next January.
I kept going to yoga every week, at least once if not twice.
I spent some time doing hard-core activist work, but then settled down to a menial job at a coffee shop, bookstore, or other retail job.
I could work on my writing, maybe get a few things published.

What if, instead of going on to traditional grad school, I decided to become a yoga practitioner, or a masseuse, or a henna artist?
Maybe I could open a recycled clothing/book store.
Maybe I could find purpose in simplicity and not run myself into the ground.
I could still do some organizing, but it wouldn't necessarily be my job.

Maybe later, when I really knew what I wanted to teach, I could become a professor. But much later in life.

Maybe I could join the Peace Corps. Maybe not.

There are so many what ifs in my life right now. So many possibilities that sometimes I scare myself thinking of all of them. And I know there is an infinity of possibilities. There is so much potential in every moment.

I'm afraid of missing something.