“… I just did it. I moved away. I
bought a one way ticket and I moved to Hawaii!!!” – he said through the line. Farther
and farther as the words trailed off.
I was far northern, still in the same
country but an ocean and a couple states away. “You’re quite brave. Everyone romanticizes
with the idea of moving away, but you actually did it. I’m quite happy for you”.
I said reassuringly.
I admired his sense of valiancy. To
be able to let go of the weight and the burden of the past, to take action and
do something about his future. To move on. But it hadn’t come easy. You see he’d
been through a lot. Times that tested his faith, his strength, his maturity,
his wisdom, all of him. A little bruised, and a little humbled, at a crossroad
he chose to move ahead.
A past that had anchored him for
years had maybe made him lose his sense of direction a bit. But he knew it now,
and that’s what mattered.
A long conversation later, with many
motivational words exchanged I promised he could always count on me, many miles
away.
That night I laid in bed for hours,
thinking about my own life and what I would do. It’s rather quite opposite. In
those moments of weakness where valor has struck me, my thoughts have never led
me far from home. Sure, I guess loading up a truck, filling it up, and riding
off into the sunset and leaving it all behind does sound tempting. But let’s
face it? How far could I get alone!? I’d get a flat tire half way there, pick
up a psychopath hitchhiker and/or get there and acquire some rare third-world-country
disease. (Apply all sarcastic humor uttering those words..lol). But that’s just
me.
Every time I’ve thought of fleeting
my current environment. I’ve always wanted to go, well… home. To where I came
from, where I was born. Sure it’s full of genocide at the moment, but it’s the
memories I treasure most. Those that don’t carry weight. Me at my happiest: Young,
naïve, no burden in the world. Plainly and simply put, just happy. In my own
way, I’ve always felt quite out of place here. I mean, I can’t complain, I love
my family, I love my friends, I’ve loved everyone whose come and gone from my
life. But my heart’s never quite settled to the surroundings. And a lifetime
later, maybe I too have grown tired of my own direction. I’ve gotten lost a
time or two in the dire search for happiness. I’ve felt the thunder, and the pouring
rain, and the haze that doesn’t let you see past your own desperation. And when
you’re that lost, well, sometimes all you crave is a bit of familiarity.
I guess, there comes a time in
everyone’s life when all you can see are the years passing by. And after so
many poets and writers urging us to seize the day. That’s the journey we choose
to take. For some it means moving miles and maybe oceans, or countries away.
For others it means finally coming home. Whichever fits you.
Maybe in the grand scheme of things
all we are trying to do is find somewhere we belong. Somewhere it all makes
sense. And that at the end of the day if all else fails somewhere to lay our head
down, close our eyes, and begin dreaming all over again.
They say the road less traveled is
less traveled for a reason. But maybe that reason isn’t because we chose to
conform to the easier ideologies and clear paths. Maybe it’s because we, in our
desperation forget that even the most meekest soul is brave. The Road Not Taken, is unfamiliar, and
challenging. But it’s the one most vital to take at a time or another in our
lives. For if we do not venture out into the world, find our niche in this big
old place, we will always run in circles. We will always run into ourselves.
A sense of direction, doesn’t mean
always holding a compass, it’s just putting one foot in front of the other,
confident, that whichever destination our path leads, “the getting there”, will
always be the most important part of the journey.
Happy Travels ;)
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