It's a long trip from the Holy City to the capital of Syria, over five hours on foot and a gnat's wing shy of 325 kilometres. The distance from Prospect Rd to my place is nowhere near as great, but some months ago I had a similar moment of revelation as I waited there for a cab I feared would never come. As an hour and a half ticked by and my patience began slowly but surely to desert me, I came to understand that my life was my own in a way it had never been before and I could do whatever I liked with it. This knowledge was new to me, and more than a little frightening, but it had the potential to transform me in ways I hardly dared to imagine.
From my earliest days on this Earth until the ripe old age of 37, I was half of an inseparable double act. I could neither part from my mother's side, nor stray too far beyond the parameters she set for us both. The mere thought of rebellion conjured feelings of disloyalty and ingratitude, but all the while I wanted something other, something more. A need to keep the peace stopped me from ever speaking about these desires and left me with no chance to act on them. I wasn't happy about this at all, and often felt like an angry wasp buzzing around in a jar, but I resigned myself to what I thought was my lot and lived with it the only way I knew how.
At 10:15 on the morning of Sunday December 29th, 2013, everything I knew changed. An unknowable and untreatable cancer ended my Mum's earthly life, brought her spirit closer to her God and left me alone, or so I felt, in a world I understood very little and preferred to keep at arm's length.
In the weeks and months that followed, I existed on autopilot and thought I was doing well if I managed to drag myself out of bed and get dressed on the same day. Maintaining the illusion of normality is often helpful in finding your way back there but, when your whole definition of 'normal' shatters beyond repair, there doesn't seem much point.
I still have days like that from time to time, but they come less often since that sunny March afternoon when I realised I had the means and the freedom to go anywhere on the planet and reinvent myself however I chose. Prior to that truth presenting itself, the plans I made for my future were all too close to home and hearth. I wanted to surround myself with the same places, things and routines I once railed against because I felt I'd outgrown them. When the idea of travel popped into my head, the comfortable and familiar world I resented yet subconsciously tried to preserve shifted on its axis.
So where to now? In the short term, nowhere much at all. I have a lifetime's worth of independent living skills left to learn and master before I can start globetrotting, but I'm working to a strict schedule and would like to have much of that sorted by the end of the year. In mid 2016, the northern hemisphere's summer, I plan to go away for three months and spend six weeks in the UK and six weeks in Canada. My sojourn in the Great White North will centre around Vancouver and Toronto for reasons of wheelchair friendliness alone, and hopefully increase my chances of seeing Rush live in concert before I die.
Great Britain's inclusion on my grand tour itinerary will surprise no-one who's known, spoken to or corresponded with me for more than five minutes. I'm not naive enough to believe the reality of England, Ireland Scotland or Wales will have much in common with the green and pleasant land I've dreamed of visiting ever since I can remember, but there's only one way to find out.
When I return home I will think long and hard about where I’d like to spend the next few years, apply to universities in the relevant area, sell my house and head to wherever accepts me in plenty of time for the 2017 academic year. I will stay at (insert campus here) long enough to complete my Ph D part time, then follow anywhere the path of academic research and lecturing work leads me. It’s a big world out there, and I want to see as much of it as I can while I can. I will continue to write anywhere and everywhere. Settling down is for people who have partners and families and, as I’ve spent a great deal of my span avoiding both, I see no reason that can’t continue. A life of uncomplicated solitude with only my own needs, wants and whims to consider will make it so much easier to pack my bags and move whenever and wherever the mood takes me. I think I could be very good at living out of suitcases, and I'll do it for as long as I'm able.
Your life sounds like it's about to become a heady mix of challenge and excitement, Steve. I wish you all the very best with your adventures (and, of course, the writing!)
ReplyDeleteWe come to an epiphany via suffering, since metaphysical form requires anguish to force us to re-evaluate and reconsider those things we take for granted. How and why are often cloaked in psychological mumbo jumbo, but that does not make them any less authentic.
ReplyDeleteTaxi system tardiness or the loss of a partner are no less a catalyst than my own, only the outcomes differ. I became a better soldier so it wouldn't recur. I spent years improving my skills with numerous body-wrenching moments. 45 years later, I know that epiphany to be wrong.
A true epiphany is a rare occurrence. Most people experience an epiphany identified later as a flash of realisation. An epiphany seems to follow a process brought about by significant thought triggered by key information but with a high degree of prior knowledge to allow an individual the requisite leap of understanding.
Trauma is followed by ritual normalisation that rapidly crumbles, leaving expectations high and dry, and a desire for "something else." Our experiences to that time determine what that something else is, yet it seldom meets our needs or requirements. Clinicians believe that is the difference between an epiphany and realisation. Both useful concepts, neither are inter-changeable. We do however, confuse them.
You have long held the desire to travel and you have long believed your need for a carer. The trauma of loss brought you the realisation that now you had to fend for yourself. Having begun to achieve a degree of self-actualisation, your mind triggered that long held belief in travel, that higher degree of prior knowledge that prompts your leap of understanding.
A schedule is a time-management tool to programme possible tasks and actions, a sequence of events to achieve a predicted outcome. But it's obvious the very terms employed here indicate it is variable, and that schedules are simply guidelines, subject to change, to external influences and the vagaries of the karma.
Travel broadens the mind and I have firsthand experience that it truly does - when done in the right manner. Now it get's interesting. What part of our mind needs broadening? It is a simple matter to consider any experience will broaden the mind, but much will that broad experience be useful? It is the sensations we encounter from travel that shape our ability to manage our experiences and our perspective.
And this is where the schedule begins to unravel. Only a fool believes it's simply a matter of buying a plane ticket and appearing in another country. Airlines have rules about people with disabilities and sometimes their flights may not be conducive to our plans. For instance, long-haul American Airlines (AA) flights are unsuitable for diabetics since AA don't have diabetic meals. Part of my recent experience with AA was 30 boxes of sandwiches for 176 passengers: first in, best dressed. It did not suit my travel plans but alternatives were out of the question.
It will be those long, listless hours confined to 1975 style seating that the long and hard retrospectives will occur. It is pitifully inadequate to mindlessly watch movies, so it becomes music time with hours of contemplation. Academia is a great step and your ability as a wheeled raconteur will stand you in good stead.
Took me 45 years living out of an Army Duffel Bag to learn the lesson of settling down. Solitude means no Rundle Street lunches with friends, no Left Bank Cafes or gatherings at author conventions. That's not what you intend, but it's reflected by your choice of words. Settlement gives you a base of operations but it doesn't have to be a three bedroom house with a picket fence. It can be an apartment, perhaps Paris, Berlin or Trinidad.
By all means plan these things but view them with a realistic sense of perspective. Rather than a suitcase, consider an upright steamer trunk that better suits your lifestyle and allows you far better access and you will be able to travel for much longer than you suspect.
I can see you 'rushing' boldly towards new adventures and wanted to let you know that you are my hero. Who else can sling such interesting prose at a page with one hand, and wrestle solitude with the other? How wonderful that in this electronic age your friends can follow your suitcase.
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