Be vigilant in your fight for life
In this struggle for existence
Defy all that suffocates or
Represses the liberty of you
There is no greater good than
The existence and affirmation
Of your hearts desire
Who are you?
Is it that car, the job, the passion for your goals? Your kids, your house, or the clothes on your back? Your future, your past, the unrealized dreams?
What fragments of someone else defines you? Your life is yours to live, anything you can or will be, will be. Yet the most simple question of who you are, remains a question. The question…
It’s right there in the mirror, looking back; screaming for you to see, "this is me".
The answer is always there, all the time. It is you looking out from yourself; seeing the world the way only you can see. That and that alone is who you are.
I’m taking one year off to travel. Or at least that’s what I’m telling everyone. One year is arbitrary, I could be gone for months or years. I want it to be a lifetime, leaving behind the old life and embarking on something new.
I did some research on backpacks and found some really great travel backpacks. In particular the Deuter Quantum and the Eberlestock Halftrack were fantastic. In my over-analytic style I decided against a backpack and will stick to my simple 50L duffel bag. This is ideal for airport travel, train hopping, but not for extended periods of hiking with heavy gear. I also have a small backpack just big enough to carry my laptop, wacom tablet, and art supplies.
Truthfully, I haven’t taken much time to think about what I’m doing, I’m just sort of doing it. I quit my job. Now I’m selling or giving away everything I own. This, along with some savings, raises sufficient money to travel. What I’ll have left is exactly what I want to take with me.
I cannot possibly prepare for all of the places I will go. And I’m not even trying, I’ll do my best as I travel and see where life takes me. Since I am in no hurry, I’ll take the time to acclimate (as much as possible) with not only the local culture, but to the contemporary artistic culture of every destination.
I have no itinerary, it’d be much too complex. Instead I have a vague sense of direction, a general westbound movement around the globe. Listing all of the countries, languages, and cultures I want to visit would be too tiresome, so I’ll let the itinerary unfold as I travel.
Why I’m doing this I do not know. Perhaps it is a simple pull of fate. Something I have always wanted to do…
If I thought about it deeper, I realize that as I look to the churches, to the state houses, to the corporate towers, and the academic halls; in all there is an emptiness. Where we used to find meaning and purpose, we find only limits. Creative and intellectual limits. I imprint to the norms and social mores in each environment, and in all there is an artificial world best described as empty. To the executive it is life, to the politician it is life, to the academic it is life — each of them with their own perceptions that amount to nothing more than constraints to help guide our animal instinct.
And if I think about my life, I realize that no matter where I have been, from the most dense urban sprawls to the far remote wilderness, in every place I travel I can find that rapture of existence. If we take the time to see, we see that we are one with the world around us, sharing and cooperating in the joyous sorrow of life. In those moments I find something real, this is where our perceptions are cleansed, and it is these moments that we affirm our existence– where life is imbued with meaning.
More than ever, I am convinced that this world is not one of boundaries, in-groups, and aliens; but a tiny spec in an endless abyss of space. An oasis in a sea of nothing. We share our world in our mutual struggle for existence. And everyday, everyone of us attempts to make sense of the beautiful sorrow of our daily life.
Ironic that the thing we are looking for is all around us, all the time. I guess I’m traveling to go beyond the boundaries and the in-groups; and live the life that I want to live. I’m just not sure what that means yet.
No one inquired to purchase my alarm clock from craigslist. The ad read as follows:
I’m taking a year off to travel and am selling everything that I’m not taking with me.
This hideous machine maintains time in a crude light-emitting display. During the day it appears harmless enough, but in the early morning hours it will abruptly cry with a horrific series of beeps. I do not recommend being near it when this happens.
An otherwise delightful and peaceful sleep will be killed as this device bellows its vile sounds. This will continue until you ritualistically accept its demonic power and prematurely rise from your slumber. This “alarm” will persist until the demon has been appeased by feeding on your dreams, letting you sleep in a tortured sequence of 9 minute intervals… the demon euphemistically refers to the feeding as “snooze”.
With every beep your soul will slowly die. This process will continue until the demon has completely devoured your hopes and dreams, leaving you a lifeless husk– blindly waking without purpose. Once this process is complete you will feel no pain, only a vague sense of yearning for a life beyond the bounds of suffering.
Not a single reply. I ended up selling it to a nice young lady who was purchasing kitchenware and thought she could use this in her bathroom as nothing more than a clock, huh.
No longer the centerpiece of a cosmic order
At best an inconsequently spinning jewel
In a schism between life and death
Foundations of dogma crumble down
Leaving a crisis of identity in
An uncertain world
We search inward while reaching outward
Vainly grasping in both hands
The delusions of yesterdays past
Without reason or order
This tireless journey will be fulfilled
In the struggle of our existence
Look closely, those are cows
They escaped, wandered into the street and made way to the ocean
On one hand it’s probably dangerous for them to be on the highway
But this answers a vague question floating in my mind
Everytime I see them staring stupidly chewing cud
I wonder if they long for the freedom of running
Freely on an empty beach
Just as I do