Someone like me who doesn’t feel at peace without stating their daily plans probably shouldn’t be blamed for not being honest with themselves. No, I won’t say I am not honest with myself. However, the phenomenon of not knowing what my position is in regard to the universe around me is a pretty common occurrence, I suspect. One person is simply not a single entity; there is a plethora of persona inside each of us, spawned by variety of conflicting emotions and urges. That is without counting the influence of the constant flow of happenings around the small bubble in the universe one lives in. I can say without hesitation that realizing this for the first time had been a very uplifting moment for me, since without the comprehension of this concept, surges of guilt even when we are faces the naturally recurring nostalgia is unavoidable.
One thing I did know though; that I have been in a very very long journey. The destination nor the path, neither is within my grasp, for I am merely a plankton floating across the sea of life. I have had this notion that the milestones of my journey probably are the persons I have had the opportunity to touch. This idea formed from the way I have always stayed each of my intimate human connections only for a while. In each stage of my life so far, I have met a few small islands of people who are ally to each other. It does not have to be friendship that is the connection they share among themselves. They might be simply stuck in their own islands in the sea of life, they might not even enjoy their acquaintances. I have been through their joys and sorrows, probably not in griefs. I am not sure that these people from my past really remember me the way I would have liked them to, but I hope I did not mistakenly poke any place where it hurts. What I am sure of is, after leaving each island of people, I gained some precious experiences, if not memories. I can recall a favorite quote on mine about this…
“…there ain’t no journey what don’t change you some.”
― David Mitchell,
Another interesting attribute of a journey is that it itself will change along with changing you. Through the journey of becoming a writer one might discover what they really desire is to see themselves behind the camera in a movie set. I don’t remember giving my journey much thought, I let myself go with the flow of life. No, I don’t think that is correct. When the islands of people seemed less like anchorages and more like ship graveyards,. I could not make myself stay anymore, my instinct wouldn’t let me. I had to find new coordinates in the indecipherable map of the ocean of nonchalant life.
Even though I am a journeyman by heart, I have been stuck in a shipwreck for a while now. It is because of my disregard of own volition, of course. Just floating around the ocean of life strips you off your individuality. The waves don’t care for how beautifully curved your ship’s masthead is, they don’t know how beautiful the sails look when air nudges them from the aft-side. It you who has to be wary of preserving your ownness. One might argue that being too much concern of your individuality might in reality result in not being able to connect with those peoples in the islands that you need to anchor from time to time. True, however knowing myself, I tend to lose what it means to be myself when I stand among the crowd. And I feel this urge to begin a new journey where I might find a new me in a new ship. This time I don’t need to prepare for the journey, I already have my bags packed. The next step is literally taking the step.