Two years after the inception of the dream, the Eurovan
arrives tomorrow. So I've had two years to mull and mulling
is one of the things I do best. I've been around the block
enough to know that there can often be a ginormous gap between
a fantasy and the realization of that fantasy:
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow*
So if you think I haven't, on occassion, concluded that
this whole idea is insane or felt the fears of leaving it all
behind, think again. I suspect that the desire to chuck
it all is universal, but to actually do it requires either
an act of courage or, perhaps, extremely uninformed
But somehow the road is calling. There is enough evidence
of the journey as metaphor in world myth and literature for
me to conclude that wanderlust is, also, universal. I don't
suspect that it is necessarily a search for something, which
implies an arrival at some point of certainty, as it is the call of the
journey into the unknown itself. Besides, I no longer believe in a
certainty that can be expressed in the limited rational tool
of language and I am increasingly comfortable in the ambiguous
gray goo of the Now.
So, in order to drop out, I've had to strip away the usual
layers of socialization, ignore the little voices suggesting
my insanity and prepare to plunge into the unknown.
Ain't you been properly socialized? Yeah, didn't take.
I am leaving behind a beautiful house, a lucrative (yet essentially
unrewarding) job, and a set of patterns that are warm and cozy
if mostly unnoticed in the dream of everyday life.
Exciting? Yes. Scary? Sure.
Wendy once said that one idea of Hell would be to die and only
then to be able to perceive all of the things that you could
have done and didn't. Indeed.
Time to take the plunge and I'd be a damn fool if I didn't.
I'm going where the sun keeps shining
Thru' the pouring rain
Going where the weather suits my clothes
Banking off of the north east wind
Sailing on a summer breeze
And skipping over the ocean like a stone**