How Life Comes Today – A series of some of my more obsessive
traits and observations.
A Tinge of Wanderlust -
A good friend recently asked me to elope. Not in the fashion of marriage, but in the
fashion of life. To quit my job, sell my
things, and disappear to some exotic land to chase the surf. They want to head to Australia, to the
Philippines, to Indonesia, Thailand, and wherever life takes them thereafter. It was pitched as a three month escapade, a
sabbatical if you will, and I have to say it sounds incredibly tempting. So tempting I shouldn’t acknowledge the
itch. While I am more historically
interested in getting lost in Europe, I have always wanted to go to the
tropical islands that dot the pacific and that coastal realm of the southern portion
of the Asiatic continent. As cheap as it
is, with the exception of Australia, it’s not unreasonable. I have wanted to see that great reef which is
so important to the life on this planet, to gaze upon Ayers Rock in its crimson
glory, and see a Kangaroo in its natural habitat. I have wanted to ride an elephant, see the
limestone islands of Ao Maya, get lost on the flawless sand beaches, and cruise
on a 50-125 CC motor bike through congested thorough-fares with no idea where I
am going. I want to see ancient temples
and gardens, watch a volcano spew the earth’s blood, and dive with the
fishes. All with a friend and surrounded
with that air of aloofness only provided by the company of strangers.
These things speak to me.
As someone that believes that life is a culmination of experiences and
that each of those experiences shapes who you are or could be, this is the
jackpot. This is the kind of adventure
that exposes you to so many experiences you hardly have time to get your head
around them, comprehend them, or let alone simmer in them. They will run the gambit from incredible to
terrible, usually more incredible than anything else. Some of my wonderings through Europe have
been the most impactful experiences I have ever accumulated.
This isn’t the first time I have considered it. When I was a spry youth, most of my effort
seemed to be exploring this kind of endeavor.
I had once hoped to start in London and follow the path of the kings,
knights, peasants, and their retainers through France, visiting the scenes of
The Hundreds Years War and the location of The Council of Clermont, down
through northern Spain, into Italy, and on to Jerusalem. Ideally walking as much as possible. It would have taken me months but how many
countries could I have seen and how many experiences would I have banked. It’s best not to hold regrets I think.
More recently, about a year or so ago, another friend abroad
told me of his endeavors at sailing.
This land lover decided he was sailing material, how he got this notion
I don’t know. At the time, he had asked
me to meet him in Hawaii and circumnavigate the globe. Wow, what an offer. I can only imagine the person I would be
after an escapade like that and I have always fancied the great blue sea
circling the continents, their deep spaces the only bits not mapped on this
world. As much as I had fancied to be a
sailor the creatures that inhabit the sea are horrifying to me. Not to be seen through glass but in their own
environment. It’s their realm and I
respect that, if it was mine I would most likely be more suited for its
environs. Maybe some flippers or a sweet
dorsal fin and I would need to be able to hold my breath for much longer than I
currently can manage. As it sits now, I
feel that when I am in the sea, I am just a floating snack, something to be killed
and eaten. I don’t want to be
eaten. I think to myself, ‘well Ryan,
you would be on a boat’, our solution to the problems listed above; but then I
think ‘undoubtedly, you will have to go into the water.’ This is true.
Swimming is a big part of the boating experience. Something tells me this is a horrible idea
when you have been out in the middle of the Pacific with sharks that can smell
miles in the wake, just waiting for that tasty buffet to take a dip. Suffice to say, I said no. I still think about it though and as he posts
pictures of himself on his big sailboat I get that twinge of the wanderlust
come back to me.
Just today, another friend walked up to ask if I would be
interested in the Pacific Crest Trail.
The trail itself runs through the Cascades from the Mexican border north
through California, Oregon, and then Washington, finally terminating in
Washington where we rub up against our top hat, Canada. They were not asking me to go but they were
asking my interest level, since apparently ‘this is something you seem like you
would be interested in.’ Again, true and it seems that my wanderlust has a
frequency that people pick up on. So
much so that they can now suggest lengthy excursions at will to me. That pang in the soul once again returning.
Another friend, although not chasing an overt adventure just
up and quit everything, defaulted on their condo, selling off their stuff, and
moving across the country to explore new or friendlier avenues. Their reasons are their own, but it’s
exciting for them none the less. The
freedom gifted by such an action filling the vassal with such possibility that
it makes my head spin. They could do
whatever they want. Anything that was a
whim or a slight interest could be a new path altogether. Something that most people only dream
of. They deserve it I suppose, they have
in a way built the freedom through years of hard work and dedication, why
shouldn’t they chase their passions, and after all, isn’t that what we all
should pursue. Unfortunately most
pursuits of passion do not guarantee or include money, which is how we all got
to running on the treadmill to begin with, helping other people with their
passions. I wish her the best of luck
and hope she ends up somewhere supremely happy that I can come visit and enjoy
that passion with her as I am able. I
hope she does something that she always wanted to do and makes a good living
off it.
So why not just go?
It’s a laundry list really, but none of them hold water on
close examination save maybe one. As
much as I enjoy my job it’s not going to net me millions or the vacation time
for the travelling I want to do, at this current juncture it’s not even achieving
a career path, nor will it allow me to explore my other passions. Let’s be clear, I love what I do but it’s not
a passion, and there are differences. Working
at this level is just a full time endeavor, no way to split that, but a
necessary evil nonetheless. Half my
family lives out of state, so I can’t say that family is really keeping me back
from the wanderlust, although I do like being here and a call away for my mom
who’s significant other has recently had a shift in his work life which sees
him traveling to Hawaii and other sites a few weeks a month. A bigger focus on that relationship with my
mother is important to me, but nothing that would be shattered by leaving for a
few months. My friends, are in a way,
part of my family as well, but again, it’s not as if leaving them for a few months
would degrade or hurt the relationships I have built my entire life. In fact they would all probably tell me to
go. So what is it? Well, Thane, my rather large accomplice in
life strikes back. His product life
cycle ticks away every day and I don’t know that I could leave him in the care
of others for such a long duration, even with the modest skills his caretakers
utilize. Sure, he has potential years
left but I worry, when my large friend has such a short time to be with me that
I will miss out on that time. That is
the reason I bought a dog after all, to be with, to share things with, for
unconditional company. Now I have gone
and gotten addicted to this relationship we have. With the recent events in his life, mobility
is and will become more of a big deal.
Even a long walk will leave him limping and it won’t be getting any
better. A breed that averages six to
eight years is seeing turbulence as he was just diagnosed with a torn MCL and
arthritis which is leading to hip dysplasia, at only the age of three and a
half it’s a hard time to be Thane. He’s
still happy of course, I don’t know that he could be anything else, but I
learned a very important lesson at the immediate onset of the injury. I am unable to facilitate the movement
requirements of a 180 pound dog. That
night was hell. Moving at all at the
beginning of the night was a painful affair for him, something incredibly
noticeable on a dog that lacks personality as status quo. By the end of the
night my poor Eeyor couldn’t begin to try and pick himself up. On attempt he would end up just spinning
around like a top, unable to get his back end off the floor. All efforts proved futile and I could begin
to see the panic in his facial expressions.
Something was wrong, very wrong.
Eventually a decision had to be made, leave him in the living room where
I know he would whine all night and generally act reproachful for the next few
days since he didn’t get to sleep in his bed, or carry him. I opted to carry him. We started with a wheel barrow maneuver,
getting his fronts up and then me providing the lift and carry for his back
half bit. He panicked when we hit the single
stair that leads from the family room to the dining room kitchen area. The fronts went down and the 180 pound dog
threw his head into the linoleum.
Looking back at me as if it was my fault for being a bad wheel barrow
operator, he refused to try again.
Attempting to carry a 180 pound dog is a unique art. He hasn’t been carried by a single individual
since he was 50 pounds and when he is picked up now, it’s with the help of
another. This was a very tough feat on
my own. I did it, but I remember laying
in my bed surprised that we made it, of course once he was situated it was
fine, for the rest of the night. This made me realize that he isn’t getting any
younger and his problems are only going to get more prevalent. I can’t leave that and I certainly can’t ask
another to do it either.
So for now, he keeps me home. It’s not bad, in fact it’s wonderful.
