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

Love-Hate Relationship

"Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the 

human spirit." ~Edward Abbey

Four months in Asia. I am leaving it all behind and at last heading state side. I’ll be honest, I cannot wait. Admitting that surprised even myself. I am not normally overtaken with homesickness. I don’t even know if I can classify this feeling in the same category. I rarely take pleasure in acknowledging my American roots. I have little patriotic pride; George Bush kind of ruined that. But I do have fondness for American soil. Believe it or not there are some absolutely amazing, beautiful locations in good ole ‘Merica and right now that is what I am missing, a bit of the familiarity. 

In a day I will be back with my car, my one real material attachment. Minnie Mouse is sitting in Hood River, OR waiting for me. At the beginning of September I filled her with all my winter gear and placed her keys into the trust worthy hand of my friend, Krey Krey. We had worked out an agreement. He wanted to do a road trip south to the Lower 48 with his girlfriend, but he was sans vehicle. I needed to get my car to the west coast. Ta-da! He got a road trip and I got my car parked in Hood River. It was weird being in Hong Kong knowing that someone was driving my car south all the way from Alaska. But as I have said before, sometimes you have to relinquish the control and instead leave faith in its place. 

I will soon be sleeping again in my car, on the road, traveling cross country to a new destination. I am so excited that I think of little else. I can see it now, the music blasting; the feel of the wheel in my hands, and the gentle purr of Minnie Mouse’s engine. The good luck Buddha Karen Reynolds gave me so many years ago, smiling at me from the dashboard, always encouraging, sending me well wishes for every safe journey I have gone on. I glued him to Minnie Mouse’s dash board years ago, and he has yet to fail me. Minnie Mouse stocked with a bit of gear, food, a map and wide open country is the purest form of freedom to me right now. The world is my oyster as they say. I feel antsy with excitement for what lays ahead. 

This fall I told a student of mine that the destination didn’t always have to be the priority. I told this student to forget about Point A or Point B for once. Instead, focus on what’s between these two points, the journey. I know it’s hard to think about this when you are a teenager and all you want is results. I think that is how most of us lived life at that age. It’s kind of like eating. If you scarf it all down just to be the first to finish, do you really remember what it tasted like? If you hike a trail without looking left or right, do you really see it? If you travel just to get somewhere, what do you gain? 

We are guilty of these things, myself included. It’s human nature to rush. We miss out when we get focused on one thing. I keep trying to follow the mantra I explained to this student this fall. I am leaving behind Asia to return to the states. I am excited, but more for the roads that I must travel rather than my destination. I and Minnie Mouse am no stranger to the major highways that will deliver us to our objective. I have traveled these highways many times. Back and forth, up and down the U.S, over and over for multiple seasons. Yet the countryside will still be new as well as laced with vague familiarity. It’s a comforting feeling. 

Aspen, CO is my destination. My objective: to arrive by January 16th to start training as a ticket seller for the Aspen Ski Company. This fall and winter season is proving to be the year of the unexpected. Doing things I never really dreamed I’d do. Three months navigating my way around a major world city, exposing young minds to the hidden wonders of Mother Nature. What I really navigated was a concrete jungle. I proved something to myself: I found out that I could survive life in a city. I knew I could, but I didn’t want to and nor do I really want to again. I can see that now. I have yet to make a decision over my experience in this country. One thing really comes to mind: love-hate relationship. 

I loved it because it was different, it was an experience. It was growth oriented. I “hated” it because I felt confined. There is “wilderness” to be found in Hong Kong, quite beautiful in fact. But with the backwoods still came the essence of the 7 billion people who lived there. I could never quite escape it. There’s something to be said about the whisper of silence in wilderness. It’s beautiful. I miss that. That is what I look forward to the most with my return to stateside. Not a hamburger or a good American Beer, but silence, the silence of the outdoors. My soul needs it. I have felt lost these last few months. Sitting here on this plane has let me see what it is: wilderness, wide open space, remoteness, big mountains and tall, tall trees. All of it, I miss it. 

I love traveling whether it is state side or overseas. It’s an opportunity to be educated, humbled, to broaden the horizons. It also creates that love-hate relationship I spoke of earlier. You see the things you want to see while being exposed to those you wish didn’t exist. Indonesia was amazing and I don’t regret one minute of it. It was a country of beauty next to raw abuse of this planet, and yes, that made me cringe. 

Life in Jakarta made Hong Kong look like a kitten. I can’t believe I was so nervous four months ago. In September I sat in the San Francisco airport writing in my blog, revealing my fears for what awaited me. The idea of Hong Kong terrified me. In reality, it is one of the safest cities in the world. 

I laugh as I think back to that moment. Here I sit, on a plane delivering me to that same airport; only I am returning a different person. I guess that is why I love traveling so much. You leave as one person and you return as another. If you don’t, then you failed. The unknown can overwhelm us. The day you realize that is often the day you have overcome the fear. 

I land in San Francisco to then board a Greyhound Bus for Hood River, OR to pick up Minnie Mouse. So much travel awaits me. I get my car and then it’s to the road for Aspen, CO. The next three months are dedicated to learning how to ski, something I didn’t really think I’d ever do. Simply exchanging one life experience for another.

New Year, New Country

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” ~~Lao-tzu 

You know you've become addicted to travel when you begin planning the next journey while the one you’re on has yet to end. That was me on day two of our twenty five days in Singapore and Indonesia. 

Where to next, was the ever present question. Who, what, where, why, when, how. Like a toddler let loose in the big wide world full of worldly legos. That was me for twenty five days. Big eyes and a brain like a sponge soaking it all up. 

Wide eyed and taking it all in :)

Twenty five days of dusty, sweaty travel. It felt like forever yet at the same time it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. There’s so much in this world, but yet we’re only granted one life. It doesn’t seem fair. 

How do I see it all? I have one life and by statistical standards, I am nearly at the halfway point, yet there is still so much out there. No, this is not a mid life crisis, simply an observation. All we can do is make a choice and run with it, going where it takes us. There is no wrong turn. 

They say it begins with a single step, how true that is. 

I had little opportunity to blog during this journey. Limited access to Internet, but sometimes things cannot be given words. When I think of Indonesia, the last twenty five days, I think of one thing: cojones. 

Big cojones. 

Traveling in a third world country puts a whole new perspective on life. I might be dirt broke back in the states, well below the poverty line when it comes to the tax bracket, but in Indonesia, we are sitting pretty my friend. 

What do we have to complain about? Yeah, maybe gas is a bit expensive, health insurance will cost you your first born child, and college your retirement fund. Don’t even think about graduate school. But at least we have possibilities. Sometimes in third world countries, these are dreams, simple fantasies. It’s a tough realization. 

There are survivors in this world. There is always someone who has it worse than you. I cannot even begin to say I understand, because our story is our own. I traveled in a country where they tell you the water isn’t safe to drink, yet the locals drink it. A hot shower is a rare luxury, twenty crammed people in a small van isn’t considered full—always room for one more. “Bathrooms” consist of a hole in the floor where you squat, flushing by pouring a bucket of water down the hole. Some would cringe at the idea of squatting to relieve one’s self, but man has been doing this for thousands of years. 

We were meant to squat people, not perch on a porcelain throne. 

Everyone needs a little Buddha in their life.

It was an interesting experience to pass through the more developed cities and see how they had been touched by the western influence. It was interesting and sad, a culture dying right before our eyes. The city of Ubud in Bali seemed to be the hidden gem for the meditative, grass juice thirsting, yoga seeking Westerner on vacation, aka: the modern day trust fund hippie. It didn’t seem right that Ubud was even in the same country after experiencing Java. It was a great location to buy trinkets, but otherwise Ubud was everything we were trying to get away from. 

Ten days racketing around the hazy, sweaty grunge of Java, traveling by Bemo (small vans crammed full of fifteen people or more) and trains that felt like they would fall apart at every shudder, we hit Bali and Ubud. It was culture shock in a whole different sense. Western restaurants, western toilets, stores selling western style clothing and accessories. On Java, we had gone days without spotting another Westerner. In Ubud, the streets crawled with “Bules,” the Bahasa word for “white foreigner.” It seemed that Ubud was where everyone went for vacation. I had one question, if you were going to travel in a foreign country, why be drawn to that you had left behind. I didn’t understand it. Humans are like a moth drawn to the flame, glorying in the comfort of what they know. Embrace the unknown, it won’t hurt you. 

We were only in Ubud long enough to get from Point A to Point B and back again. All the guide books tout about Denpasar and Kuta, the party beach scenes and the place to be for Christmas and New Years if you’re a foreigner. The locals couldn’t understand why we were going in the opposite direction. If they could only have seen my guide book, these places had been crossed out with a big fat red marker. NO GO, I had written. 

Instead, we joined a local Balinese style Christmas gathering in a small village called Keliki, outside of Ubud. Balinese food is SPICY, but oh so yummy! My taste buds are watering just thinking about that food. Being a primarily Muslim and Hindu country, Christmas is not generally celebrated, but the connection we had was of Christian faith. 

Amazing Balinese food for Christmas

The family that invited us for a Balinese style dinner.

Christmas Day was spent on the island of Rinca tracking down the elusive Komodo dragon in Komodo National Park. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to stand five feet away from the largest lizard in the world, also an ambush predator that can run at speeds of 18km, venomous saliva running from its mouth. Once in a life time experience: Check. 

The elusive Komodo. Not so elusive when it comes to the smell of food. :)

Christmas Eve sunset.

Twenty five days of exploration. The boundaries of knowledge stretched. I cannot even begin to write about all of it. This blog entry is already a rambling mess. A new year came and went. It was spent quietly in relaxation on a remote island of Gili Meno, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. With a new year came a new country, a new journey. 

Embrace it I say. We only get this opportunity once.

Embracing it.