And We Are Back
After 4 months living on an island without much internet connectivity, I have returned to writing once again. There are some really exciting posts just around the corner, and a ton of adventure on the horizon. I’ll be taking off for Myanmar within the week, but before then, I would like to post some of my writings from my time on Kapas Island in Malaysia. So, I hope you enjoy:
It’s amazing to me that I somehow got to the age of 27 without anyone asking me, “Who are you?” I suppose it is amazing that I got to the age of 27 at all. I was never one for sitting down or shutting up. I think that would be one very defining part of my life. I’ve been asked many cliche questions. One of my favorite questions I have been asked is if I’m running away from something or running towards something. To me that question doesn’t need an answer, because in the end my feet are touching foreign ground all the same. If you are running away from something, you are inevitably running towards something else, and vice versa. For instance, if I am running away from relationships and having a family, doesn’t that mean I’m running toward living a single life that is solely mine in all its selfish splendor? It’s all just running somewhere. So, who am I? That’s a tough question for anyone to answer, but I’ll give my best attempt at introspection:
I am the series of people I’ve met, roads I’ve travelled, and most of all I am a mass of explosively beautiful and equally brief moments in time. I am a faceless man, and a man with a million faces. I am a wise old man, and an immature 14-yr-old. I am a petulant younger brother, I am a caring older brother who shows his love through sarcastic teasing, spending time together, and not saying “I love you” as much as I wish I did. I am a son who lives to make his mom laugh and his dad proud, but who doesn’t email or call as much as he should. I’m an ex-boyfriend who couldn’t find a way to be a boyfriend. I am a religious zealot lost in the desert, who can’t remember the right words to start a prayer. I’m a map pinned to a wall slowly coloring itself in. I’m a man who will live fast and die as old as possible.
I am the machete used to carve a path to find Silverback Gorillas on top of a plush green mountain; divided by three countries at odds with each other. I am the purr of the motor as it splits the river’s mirror image of the skyline burning in oranges and pinks. I am the Japanese arcade that orchestrates a chaotic symphony of sound. I am the oxygen tank strapped to a wetsuit headed for a boat that has lived at the bottom of the ocean when it’s metal still shone in the sun. I am the sail of an Amel 65 sailboat passing by the craggy Mallorca coastline as the morning sea begins to stir. I am the book a Korean student scribbles in as he rolls his eyes at his teacher’s stupid joke. I am the kitten purring on the chest of a boy as Bob Marley plays through the restaurant and rain falls onto the ocean a stone throw away. I am the aching headache that is the only reminder of the best party that any of us ever had…this week. I am the in-flight magazine that you flip through because, “Hey, it’s gonna be a long flight.” I am the backpack full of books that way you down, but you so desperately need to keep with you.
The world is an incredibly beautiful place, and I am in constant surprise of its many wonders. One thing I am sure of is that the world doesn’t accept a life wrapped around the core of travel. Perhaps it seems like cheating when we are told that we are suppose to work for 50 years before we get to be free. And so, instead, I get to be the one thing that I’ve always wanted to be: a paradoxical phenomenon.