Aching for North

For the past week or so I have seen more Monarch Butterflies than any other time in my life.  These frail, winged creatures are on their annual migratory flight pattern back to Canada for the Summer and they just happened to grace the Tri-Valley along the way.  At one point the other day I could see dozens of them in every direction, all fleeing from the South pushing on towards the great North.  As I marveled at this natural phenomenon I began to wonder and ponder about the all relating factors contributing to these tiny insects' exodus.  What is pushing them North and why?  Along the journey these Monarchs have transitioned multiple generations of flies as they have reproduced numerous times since their last struggle North.  Each generation picks up where the last left off; North in the Spring, South in the Fall.  This means that NONE of the butterflies I witnessed have even seen the majestic North, they were only following the call of their ancestral instinct, the relentless hunger for progression.  

What does that feel like?  I'd imagine it's like having an unquenchable thirst for flight.  To feel the air around your wings.  It's like an undying urge to follow suit with the countless other Monarchs that are your family on the well traveled path of destiny.  I'd imagine it must be a longing like no other, and unyielding urgency to venture to the next location and then the next.  It must be such a strong calling that every ounce of your being craves for nothing more than the North. You dream about, think about, and live about it.  Here is my question:  What massive intrinsic endeavors are we as humans destined to set forth on?  What soul longings do we posses?  What is our North?  What are the things we MUST do with our lives?  Purpose, destiny, calling, eternity? 

All I know is I want to go North like the monarchs.  Before myself multiplied millions of my ancestors explored creation, philosophized theology, established nations, and accomplished incomprehensible feats all with the hopes of finding some sort of worthwhile truth.  I want to follow my predecessors in this divinely historic mass migration towards the unknown.  I want to feel the flight of mystery.  I want to experience the fatigue of endless travel.  I want the wind to brush across my face as I soar through the clouds.  I don't know what the final destination is, but I imagine that like the great Monarchs, each stop is not the finish, just the beginning of a new adventure.