Pressing and pushing against the beefed-up safety bumpers of my mind, guarded within the confines of routine and normalcy, precariously perches an ever ballooning desire. When all told, as point of fact, this want has percolated for all the years of my adult life, ebbing and flowing in its urgency as reality took place, stretching out like taffy, malleable as a lump of clay, and, when attended to, massaged and sculpted with any number of outside influences and circumstances in mind.
Travel. Just typing the word allows for a conga line of synthesizing peptides, shitting their hormonal values directly into my bloodstream, and surfing the wave to awaken the smallest cells of consciousness that lie dormant within me, convinced of the lost cause of it all after years of devising with minimal related action.
For more than 25 years the idea of long term, extended travel has been as much ignored as not, the latter producing big blooms of exciting plans for immersive cultural experiences with my family, but birthing small sprouts of watered-down intentions and idled efforts as I mired myself in the unknowns until the aspiration withdrew, withering back to the dark recesses of my mind to collect dust. And mostly, quiet moments of peace or long insomniac nights have become great big accomplices to a far-off dream of “Someday”.
The balloon was bound to burst eventually, whether out of defeat – too many days wasted on the “wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if”, as I convinced myself I am too old or too poor or too alone, the remnants of the broken dream spattered about like the collateral damage of a popped bubble of Bazooka Joe – destroyed yet tenacious, remaining stuck to my skin, to my psyche, to me- or through persistence born of that very tenacity, my invigorated cells becoming party to finally forcing those ever-evolving visions through the cracks of stagnant borders created, ultimately, by Me.
And so? Persistence has finally stepped up, delivering a one-two – laying doubt out flat with a mean sucker punch followed up with a hard right hook. And “Someday” is finally here, standing like Rocky above a fallen Apollo.
Umpteen times over I could have stopped the planning and plotting I began last month as unanswered questions about the hows of my upcoming journey have smacked me in the face – some repeatedly. Seems doubt stood up and brushed off some. But for the first time in my adult life, I have not allowed those nagging unknowns to derail me, and instead I continue to continue- often with little more than faith in the fact that things will work themselves out as I go along.
And so I go along- one day at a time, piecing together a life experience I expect to jump to in just 215 days. And that? Deserves the F Word- which, by the way, I am so very impressed with myself for not using ONCE in this entire entry.