OK - here’s the dealio. I’m tired. Really tired. I am also running out of money. I’m finding it difficult to keep writing posts because I’ve noticed that recently that they all start with “I’m in a new city and I’m not impressed and everything is expensive,” then they all finish with “I’m tired and I want to go home.” I haven’t published many of them because they are negative and I don’t want that in my life; I won’t accept it’s presence. Traveling alone is probably one the most frustrating and difficult things I’ve done and now the only thing that is keeping me going is the stoic determination to finish what I started. I’m stubborn that way. I’m no longer enjoying the journey, I’m just pounding out the itinerary I decided on before ever leaving Austin and cramming the necessary Top-Ten sights of <blank> into the two days or 26 hours I have allocated to this particular city. The joy of exploring and the challenge of discovery and the romance of wandering have evaporated, leaving only my donkey-like refusal to accept things as they are. I keep expecting the wonderment that I had in Fiji, New Zealand, and South Africa to return, but it is elusive to arrive and ephemeral when it is present.
I have realized today, as a cab driver in Madrid was ripping me off by turning the 1.5km trip from the train station to the hostel into a 10km trip around the perimeter of the city, slowly spiraling inward towards the plaza near the destination, that I was being obstinate and recalcitrant towards my own authority over myself. I was no longer listening to myself and doing what I wanted to do; I was rebelling against my gut feeling and denying the way I really felt about this moment, right now. I was submitting to the plans I’d made without being flexible, agile, and adaptive to the way I feel today as opposed to nine months ago when I started this process. This is my turning point. I am coming home.
For those of you that know me, I hope you realize the magnitude of this realization. If you have any inkling of who I am and how I’ve lived my life in the past, you know that I have a singular skill in the ability to disillusion myself and convince myself that I can keep going no matter what the weight and level of discomfort. I’ve always said that if I can get it on my shoulders, I can carry it. This goes for physical things, but I’ve also realize it applies to obligations I accept as well. I have said in the past that I can do anything for 24 months. I have put up with bad friendships and bad relationships, bad jobs and bad decisions for far, far longer than I needed to. I have made situations my responsibility without anyone asking me too. I did it because I thought that struggle and perseverance were honorable and admirable qualities. I was right - they are - but struggling fruitlessly for weeks, months and even years becomes self-flagellation and self mutilation, and those are indulgent and childish. Especially when they are accompanied with self pity and the expectation that everyone else will one day recognize how strong, selfless and dedicated one is to their self-appointed burdens. Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight a long time…
This is NOT my Waterloo. I am not defeated. Far from it. I have accomplished everything that I wanted to do and more, beyond my wildest dreams. This is and has been the trip I’ve wanted my whole life; ever since I was old enough to read the stories of the places and people around the world. I have lived with natives on a South Pacific island. I have been on a safari and seen animals we usually only see in cages. I have seen coastlines that look exactly as they did when people first sailed past them hundreds of years ago. I have met people who live so differently from me that my horizons irrevocably expanded and my perspectives have reached a breadth and depth I was unaware existed. I have visited cities and places and stood in the footprints of authors I’ve revered and now those stories I read have a taste and smell and feel they have never had before. I have made friends I hope to see again many times. I have felt the weight of history in the stones around me. I have learned about myself and realized that my limits are imaginary and my abilities are far beyond my limits.
In the past two years I’ve torn my life down to it’s base elements and rebuilt myself. I have been through the difficulty and discomfort that comes with a rebirth. As of this moment, I am reborn. I need to rest and reflect on this; I need to flex these new limbs and explore the strength in these new muscles. I want to build something with these new tools, with new possibilities and choices and challenges.
Then I’m gonna blow it up and do this again. :-)
