A few words from my friend and soon to be travel buddy…..
While contemplating what I should do next with my agronious life. Some people may call me reserved or even thoughtful, but my own description would that of melancholy. A thought of the next step, this can be an immobilizing juncture in life for a lot of people. This is where my wife comes into play; she can be such an inspiration as well as a source of frustration, which I usually have to journey through before attaining the inspirational segment. Our latest discussion is at a point where we have come upon a fork. One way leads to an adventure with lots of excitement and pleasure tweaking our noses while the other is not. There can be something very comforting in doing nothing, although it seems like we will slowly be suffocating ourselves with breathless complacency.
There really is one path to take, this path is traveling round the world, but my melancholy wants to be heard. The sheer mention of it can give me shivers of excitement as well as tremors of fear. Knowing the right thing to do and actually doing it are poles apart.
The discussion has begun with my back against the wall grappling with my hands to find something to hold onto. The “what if’s” our like a machine gun response, picking of the oncoming assault of thoughts and ideas. I can nearly get every one before they reach the target. This assault seems like a never ending battle. As the gun fire dies down a greater battle has just begun; I hear the word “mutiny” whispered among the thoughts in my head. I go on the hunt for that word, desperation is coming on me, what will I do, how can I stop this disease from spreading? I have just found happiness, security in my breathless suffocation. What will I do now, I am getting too old for this, and I can’t just pick up and pack my caravan again. We won’t be able to fit that new house into it. Maybe we could box it up and tuck it away somewhere so I can come back to feel uncomfortable again. The inner battle is so much harder to fight. I think I may be loosing!
Weakness and vulnerability is my enemy’s, they exploit me. I cannot allow myself to succumb to this frivolity of life without walls, where can I hang all my pictures and awards of this agony I suffer. I need this, I Think?
Traveling to another place, why would I do that, haven’t we got everything we need here? Twenty-four hours times seven, are not just numbers, they are a way of life, and we loose are virginity to it. They lore with that shiny façade, describing the endless pleasure we can feel. It is true, I think?
People will not understand me and I not them, the latter not really an issue. But? Has anyone ever understood me before? I wonder? No! No!! I must not go down that road; I have to control myself, else I find myself in a mud hut eating rice with people I don’t look the slightest bit like. They might not even speak my language!
I am getting worn down by this endless struggle, whatever I do; I must avoid discussion with my wife lest I be defeated into endless wonderment.
Too late, it has already happened, just this morning, it was not as painful as I had thought it would be lifting the dead weight from around my neck. Oh no! I don’t want to be one of those people, irresponsible!
Well it comes quicker than I had imagined, I had in mind that I was stepping into something that would be out of control, but instead find myself stepping out of something sticky sucking me in. It is going to be quite a mess cleaning up. But first steps are always pretty significant.
Here is to the journey, Nomads on the run!
