The Final Countdown....

“You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore” (Christopher Columbus)

 

Ten days.

In first grade, my class did a presentation on India, and in front of watching parents and little kid classmates, I stood at the front of the classroom and informed the unknowing public that “India is a triangle. Like a slice of pizza.” That gem of wisdom plus the fact that peacocks are the national bird and brides wear red on their wedding day and I was the authoritative scholar of all things Indian. That’s where things got started, and fourteen years later, I’m in the frenzy of packing, sorting, and stressing my way through study abroad preparations. Ten days from today, an early morning plane is leaving Fort Lauderdale airport bound for Heathrow in London, and I have every intention of being on it.

Until then, I have the pleasant waiting company of prescription meds, a folder with a passport, tourist visa, and a long list of things I still haven’t bought. On the counter is a red notebook full of Hindi scribbles, the early beginnings of an alphabet that I still have to learn. A lot to do, not a lot done, and the knowledge that soon, I better be travel worthy. But more importantly, I also know that if the next ten days disappeared and I still didn’t have my order of powdered Gatorade, God forbid, I would still get on that plane. I’m ready to go, even if my things aren’t exactly ready to go with me.

 “Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You've got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it. It's like boats. You keep your motor on so you can steer with the current. And when you hear the sound of the waterfall coming nearer and nearer, tidy up the boat, put on your best tie and hat, and smoke a cigar right up till the moment you go over. That's a triumph.” (Ray Bradbury, Farewell Summer)

Four months

and the promise is a spiritual awakening, a lifetime of pictures and stories, and a new lease on life. In short, it promises a break. I’m trading in my cell phone, laptop, and red meat for a kurta, yoga mat, and grains and beans. Coffee for tea. Late nights for early mornings. The West for the East. Four months with family and friends for four months with strangers in a strange place doing strange things. I’m trading the old “me,” everything I know, have come to know, and have come to love, for whatever “me” is out there. Looking on, it’s a trade worth making—for now, at least.

Most changes in my life up to this point (family moves, changing schools, new brothers and sisters, graduating high school) weren’t voluntarily. So every time I chose to change (going to college, joining a fraternity), I asked a question: am I running away from where or who I was? If I’m completely honest, the answer is yeah, I am. But only because it's inevitable.

Going forward means leaving something behind. The intention isn't to go away from anything necessarily, or even to go to, but that's what happens anyway. Such is life. I've lived in the same neighborhood in the same house for twenty years and counting. But those years left their mark, and even though it's the same address, I live in a completely different place. I'm not riding my bike down the block to ask neighborhood friends if they want to play kickball until the sun goes down. I don't wear a collared shirt and black knee socks to school or play hookie so that I can watch reruns of Dragonball Z on Toonami. Kids grew up, families moved out, and finally, so did I. Nothing is ever really static, and people and places change from moment to moment. All I can do is change too. Yeah, I'm on the run, but only because the past is already gone. So the question changes, and instead, I have to ask where, or who, am I running to? That, I don’t know yet--and there's no hurry to find out.

 “ ‘By not so willing anything in the world, he grasps after nothing; by not grasping, he is not anxious; he is therefore fully calmed within.’ One should neither look forward to coming experiences, nor clutch at present ones, but let them all slip easily through one’s fingers.” (Michael Carrithers, Buddha: A Very Short Introduction) 

Every time we leave, we wonder if we'll ever find our way back. Maybe we will, maybe we won't, and maybe we won't want to. Nonetheless, life is always moving forward, and this is me deciding to move with it. Starting today, I’m on my way.

Link: "Send Me On My Way" by Rusted Root