I Gather No Moss

"Some people do not have to search - 

they find their niche early in life and rest there, seemingly contented and resigned. 

They do not seem to ask much of life, 

sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously. 

At times I envy them, 

but usually I do not understand them - 

seldom do they understand me." ~~James Kavanaugh

**This is not written to offend. It is just internal ramblings leaking forth from a journal entry a few weeks ago that I edited and felt like posting. 

Someone recently asked me when I was going to settle down. You’re thirty-one years old, thirty-two is staring you in the eye. When are you going to settle? Eventually you’ll have to, everyone settles. 

Um, well…never? How’s that for ya? 

What does this question mean? I didn’t know how to answer it. When I think of “settling” my mind draws a blank. I can’t “see” myself just anywhere. I see myself everywhere. 

Everything in my mind revolted against this question. I felt judged. Who is this person to assume that I “have” to settle because that is what is expected, what society expects. There’s little I rebel over, however, this assumption makes me want to do just that, rebel. 

It makes me want to get up on my soap box and say, “I’ll do as I damn well please.” If that means not settling, I’ll do just that. I mean, I kind of do what I damn well please anyways. Living life this way draws a lot of attention. With that attention come a lot of questions. My life makes total sense to me, but it has never been an easy thing to explain. 

There is one question I avoid like the plague. “Where do you come from?” 

Ahh…how do I answer this? My smart ass answer is my mother’s womb, but that is never well received. 

Hmm, well, originally from New York but of late via Hong Kong and before that Alaska and before that Antarctica. And before that…do you really want to know? This often leaves the person who asked the question wishing they never had. 

I have found that the only people who really “get” this lifestyle are those who once did or do live the same way. We are a rare breed, but we have been here since the age of time. The history books are proof. 

Those that are close to me know me for who I am. They know I do what I do for a reason. There is no judgment. I was once called a rolling stone by one of them. I took that as a compliment. A rolling stone grows no moss. I am happy with how I live and with what I do. I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise, it’s that simple. 

It is not ignorance that holds me back from the norms of society. To clarify, I don’t view it as being held back. I view it as something I don’t want right now. Someday, the urge might hit me, but right now, there is no yearning. It just sounds boring. I think of settling and sedentary is what comes to mind. This scares me. I feel confined, trapped like a wild animal in a cage. If I stop moving what will make the world stop moving? It won’t, unless global warming blows the planet up (but that is an entirely different rant :)). I don’t want to miss anything. There is a lot to see out there. I feel I have just begun to scratch away at the surface. 

In the eyes of many, I am very “unsettled.” In my opinion, I feel I have settled, just for something different. Different as in: adventure, exploration. My marriage is to solitude and peace, freedom. I have loved with every part of my soul and been loved in return, I have no doubt. I have had that opportunity and I am grateful for it, but it wasn’t lasting. It wasn’t faithful or dependable. My life, however, has been. Rarely has it failed me, left me heartbroken. It has just left me seeking, thirsting for more. 

I’ll be honest; at times I do think it would be great to have the security of a home to always go back to, a roof over my head, a steady flow of income in the bank. To have a wall to display all my worldly treasures, a warm body to snuggle each night. But these are all vices. We soon start to rely on these things, yet they can leave us as quickly as they came. They leave us vulnerable. The bank can take your home. A kiss can lead to a broken heart. What do you get for that? Nothing. 

No thank you. For now, I am content to forge my own path, master or mistress to no one but myself. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I have become cynical in my old age. I don’t know, but I do know that I am okay with it. 

Years ago, I was once caught with a friend flipping through a bride gown magazine, drooling over pages of lace, silk and satin. You know, doing the girly thing, imagining which dress we would wear on our own wedding day. We were sitting in a fifteen passenger van wearing carhart overalls and work boots. We smelled of sweat, covered head to toe in charcoal and dirt from an old burned forest where we had been building a new hiking trail. We hadn’t had a shower in days. We hadn’t slept in a real bed in even longer. What man in their right mind would want to marry us looking like that we weren’t sure at the time, but it didn’t matter. We were lost in our own little world, giggling like school girls, until we heard the click of a camera shutter. 

We had been caught by a reporter who had been following us around that day, interviewing us on our contribution of public service to the local area. At the sight of that camera in his hands, the magazine was flung to the back of the van and we hid, denying that we ever had our hands on such nonsense. We felt guilty for being caught doing something any normal woman would do. We didn’t fit the norm and that reporter knew it. He had seen two extremes side by side in that van and had wanted to catch it on film. 

He should have been a bit sneakier, that photo might have landed him a front page to National Geographics. 

Why conform to what society expects of us. Marriage can be amazing or it can be your downfall. Children can be a blessing or a monster. They are not for everyone. Why can’t this be accepted and understood. I don’t want what everyone else has, it’s that simple. At this point I have not gone after it, so it should be obvious that it is not on my priority list. 

Just because I don’t own a big house filled with a lot of junk or have the picture perfect family photo hanging on the wall doesn’t mean that I don’t have aspirations. This doesn’t make me any less capable or goal driven. You can be homeless without being “homeless,” you can be a wanderer without being a beggar on the street. You can still have class and integrity; it just comes from a different source. 

I might not have a home, a husband, or a family pet. I might not always know where I am headed next or what the pay scale will be with the next job. I might not always know where I will sleep at night. My car might be parked at random locations in the states while I wander the world with a backpack. I do not regret a single path my life has led me down. I do not sit with my backpack and weep for what I do not have. 

There is one thing I do know. I am content. I am happy. I am satisfied. I am healthy. I am in love…with the world. 

And…I know where I am sleeping tonight. I am curled up in a quiet corner of the airport against my backpack of meager belongings waiting for the next plane to take me to my next destination. I know that much and that is enough. 

**Written in the Singapore airport where I spent the entire night to catch a 6am flight to Hong Kong