29 November 2013
The Road Is Life
For the past months, I thought a lot about what would be of me. It's the inevitable, endless life question after all, right? There were quite a few things I had in mind. But the real question was: what was most important to me? It was a baffling thought, mostly because most of these things I was deciding upon required big life changes, but I don't know. For the first time in my life, I've been feeling quite unafraid. There are so many things to do, and I want to do them all.
I thought a lot about moving. I want to start a life in a new country, in a new job, and meet new people. But as I was preparing to do just that, my relentless desire to get back on the road just kept rearing its head. Once I move, I'd have to dedicate myself to that new life, and eventually be rooted there. It would take another year or two before I would be able to travel again.
"Well, which one do you feel is more important to you?" my friend asks. But I knew the answer. I knew it all along. The answer was so clear, it was stupid that I was even baffled by all this in the first place.
Let's just say that conversation ended really well. Right now, I'm sitting here with my passport beside me, two flights already booked. And I'm still looking at the map. All these places.
I still really want to move. I do. But I figured there's no point in rushing. Perhaps when I get back from my trip, I'll finally be ready. Truth be told, I have been rushing to get myself out of here. Not because I'm running away from anything, but because a part of me is afraid that if I don't go now, I won't ever. Because here is good. All the people I love are here, among many other things. Who would want to run away from all those?
I'm quite worried that if I leave for that trip though, I'd never want to stop leaving. Because that's how it is. This wanderlust is a drug and you'll never want to stop feeling that exciting rush in going places. I'll never be rooted to one place. But I guess that's the beauty of it. Every time you leave, you lodge a tiny piece of you in that place you just left. Perhaps you would never be one big strong bark standing solid on stable soil, but what you will be would be far sweeter. You will be a wild plant that sprouts in fields, gardens and cracks in the pavement. And you know how they are--they thrive everywhere.