Speechless Part II

My sincerest of apologies if there is still anyone out there who checks my blog. August has been a busy month and September looks to be filled with an equal amount of writing material that I likely will not be able to include.

Nevertheless, I promised that I would try to catch up, and catch up I shall.

Here is a post from one of the first nights of our trek on our way to Machu Picchu:

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7/24

I am inking these words in what marks the first night of our journey to Machu Picchu. Since there were an odd number of people in our group, I volunteered to sleep alone tonight, and in spite of the bitter cold, I still think I made the right decision. On a night like this, it is better to be alone, to sit in silence, to reflect on the world, and to see what your head thinks of it all.

I am still waiting for some profound revelation from myself, but the overall theme of this conversation with myself is that, life is good.


Being back in the mountains, carrying a sweaty backpack, shivering on the hard ground wrapped in goose-down, while listening to the sound of a glacial stream... These are the things that spark those brief moments of contented nostalgia. For a moment, I am back home, reminded of all the various hikes, day trips, and nights camping that all left a different footprint inside of me, and each remains in a special place in my heart.

One of the many things that I have learned since I started this little adventure of mine is that I tend to feel the least alone when I am completely alone. It is a strange irony that I can be at a bar, party, or any random get together, surrounded by all of my new South American friends and colleagues, yet often find myself directing my thoughts elsewhere, namely to the people that I left behind.


I should be more careful with my wording. If there is one thing that I know, it's that no one in this life gets left behind. In the same way that I carry my backpack of clothing and supplies along this trip, I am always carrying everyone in my life on my shoulders, each and every relationship providing me preparation for the next obstacle down the road. My first aid kit of human experience has served me well thus far. I can almost always find some analogy from my past in order to apply to the future and bring me comfort in the midst of a very uncertain journey.

Still, each day that goes by I feel more assured in my walk. I may not know where I am going, but there is a path in front of me, and I can see those further up the road walking along it as well. Most importantly, I will always have a guide to lead my way. And that's what seems so easy for me to forget.
I am starting to realize though, that the reason I am so quick to think I am alone on this walk, is that unlike Guido (the guide on this trip), the guide or guides that have always been with me in my life are following close behind me. Rather than directing my every step, they simply watch in bemusement as I stumble along this thorny and rocky path, only intervening when it is clear that I can't do it on my own.

For now then, I am lying on my back looking into a sky of nylon, comforted in spite of the rocks that are jutting through my sleeping pad into my vital organs. I am comforted knowing that beyond that thin layer of synthetic material awaits a wild world rife with excitement, adventure, and perhaps a little danger. It awaits my company, and I eagerly anticipate the journey for I know that I have all the tools necessary to navigate that sometimes frightful terrain, but what's more, I know that whatever I am currently lacking, I will pick up along the way.

Speechless Part I

You know how garbage is less likely to be taken out once it REALLY starts to pile up... And that mountain of dishes in the sink just NEVER seems to get clean? Well, in much the same way, because there is just SO much to cover, I have been avoiding the monumental task of restarting my blog after such a long hiatus about which there is just so much to tell.

I arrived in Santiago late on Saturday night after visiting several "once-in-a-liftime" places back-to-back-to-back (to-back). Since then, I have basically had a staring contest with my computer screen trying to figure out how to begin to summarize my time away from Santiago. Since I was neither so dedicated nor so foolish as to bring my computer along with me on my travels, I managed to scribble some notes into my journal at a few stopping points along the way. So rather than try to create new entries retrospectively, I will simply transcribe my journal entries into this blog. Before I delve into these entries, though, I feel it is necessary to warn you that my hand-written thoughts tend to be more personal, more melodramatic, and less lucid. Don't be surprised, then, if you find the following entries to be little more than esoteric ramblings dripping with sap.

Here is the first entry that I made. It was written by candlelight at a hotel constructed out of salt after watching the sunset on the outskirts of the Salar de Uyuni.

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7/16/07

Where does one begin to write a short treatise of all the ways this world can captivate us?

The day-to-day routine often numbs us to the life we are living. A potent anesthetic of chores, habit, and general predictability put us to sleep and we focus our energy shutting out the world around us. Still, at times, that world attempts to perform surgery on our soul. A procedure to repair us. To wrest us from our waking slumber. To abandon what we think we know about the world - what we have seen, what we can predict, what we know and feel - and teach us what the world is really all about.

When you escape from the web we have spun for ourselves, the insidious hypnosis that we call "the REAL world", you can once again open your eyes to colors that you didn't know existed, to music that no instrument can play, to a symphony no orchestra could perform.

It is funny the way the Mind works. When you are trapped in the mire of obligation and responsibility, He yearns for freedom and adventure. Yet when given the exactly that, He directs his thoughts to the more pedestrian habits of daily ritual. Acting without your consent or direction, the Mind returns to worry. It is as though He cannot roam free. So long we have domesticated the Mind that in a truly unconstrained environment He would starve in the process of awaiting orders rather than flourish and blossom with fruits of innovation. In essence we only wish to escape insofar as our escape will eventually lead to our recapture. That way, we can maintain the illusion of a free spirit. Afterward, we can forever point to our ability to pick up and leave everything behind, knowing full well that we never intended to maintain our nomadic course. Instead, free though we seem, we at once hope for and fear our return to civilization.

For now though, you mustn't dwell on such thoughts. It is now time to embrace the opportunity to wander, to be young and directionless. Turn your anxiety into arrogance, knowing full well that you don't know, and that's okay. For it is this awareness (hope, fear, anxiety... Whatever you want to call it) that will eventually enable you to find your way.

Until then, laugh with others at the joy that life brings. Breathe in the air so full of youth and the promise that youth carries. Admire the artwork of the unadulterated world around you. And when the splendor of the world fills you up to the point that you can no longer bear it, find someone else to hold and let that joy spill over into their life as you sob tears of joy into their shoulder.

Most of all, rejoice for the time you have been given. It won't last long, but it will be with you forever.

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