Flip Flops and New Beginnings
Those black marks on the soles of my feet tell the story. It is not dirt, but the dark rubber remnants from the singular pair of flip flops that has accompanied me through twelve separate countries in just over three months. They look like a permanent fixture, these dark stains, as if a part of my cellular makeup, but they aren't. On the last day of a truly epic and thoroughly fascinating trip across Europe, I feel kind of proud of them. I will eventually scrub it all off, probably when I have access to a shower for more than a few minutes once I return home (hostels aren't conducive to long, luxurious fits of bathing, in case you wondered). Yes, these slippers were made for walking alright, and have certainly accumulated some mileage while endlessly pounding pavements, trudging through hot sand, dodging puddles, and occasionally trekking up a few steep hills in the blazing summer sun. They performed their job function admirably. They owe nothing to anyone. Yet I feel a strange tinge of melancholy when I think of dumping them, as if they might climb back out of the trash, slap me in the face with their smoothed-out, treadless bottoms, and ask me, "How could you? We must not be parted! What about the memories we share!?" In my overactive imagination, I am also sure that these lines will be uttered in several different European languages, just to be sure the point is driven home. But it won't stop the inevitable. Life goes on, new shoes replace old shoes, and onward it marches. It's the only way. Fighting change can never work.
So today in Madrid, those trusty black size-elevens took their final European walking tour, Dead Slippers Walking style, through this most fantastic capital city of Spain. Interestingly, I found myself tripping alot along the way, nearly falling a few times. My balance was off, or maybe my head was too far up in the clouds, or some combination of both. I don't know. I took note of this phenomenon and quickly discovering how distracted my mind had become. I wanted to blame the slippers and their poor condition for my clumsiness, yet I knew this was only one small part of the story. An honest look at the big picture revealed the truth. One journey is ending, another one is beginning. Lots of emotions accompany such a shift, none of them bad necessarily but all of them requiring a closer look. This alone was occupying plenty of real estate in my head as I traipsed around on my last day, attempting to take in new sights and stay present as much as possible. In truth, there was so much to consider that it's a wonder I could walk at all.
During the tour I struck up a conversation with a sparkly, blue-eyed Dutch woman named Yolanda. Actually, she was the one who started the whole thing. Upon hearing that I hailed from Hawaii (at the tour's onset our lovely young English guide named Claire went around the circle asking us all where we had traveled from), Yolanda felt compelled to come over and tell me how she absolutely loved her visit to Maui a few years back. Conversation ensued, a couple of hours worth in fact. In between tour stops, and with her gentle lead, I shared the story of these last few months and what they meant to me. I could tell by her reactions that this woman was a mother through and through. I think she wanted to hug me as I started to choke up at certain points in the discussion. Her eyes said it all. It was no surprise when Yolanda revealed that she indeed has four grown children. Surely, the way we were chatting and relating made me feel like I could be #5. By the time the tour ended I was giving her my email address, taking careful heed of her promise to provide me a place to stay in the Netherlands should I ever decide to come back that way sometime.
Perhaps that one little anecdote sums up these past 98 days as well as anything. This type of thing is par for the course on trips such as the one winding down today. Time has no real meaning when traveling footloose, jobless and fancy free for this long. There is nothing else to do except talk to people, and here's the positively brilliant part: there is no time limit to such discussions. I can talk until I'm blue in the face, or until my partner in parlare is blue in the face from listening to my ramblings, or vice versa. It's a very human thing to do, all of this connecting and sharing. Quitting my job in order to indulge my sense of adventure afforded me the opportunity to just be human again, with no distractions or limitations. It's a real gift considering how illusionary the whole concept of time is to begin with. During this trip, time was truly never of the essence. I barely knew what day it was from one to the next. I hardly ever needed to. God, I loved that feeling.
Let me be clear on something here. Even I am not delusional enough to think that life can go on this way forever. I know that work (in one fashion or another) will become a part of my life again, that the cash must eventually begin flowing in more than one direction. I get that. It's just that, well, the options at this point seem far too great to count. This is a wondrous perspective to arrive at, and one that doesn't scare me in the least. I don't know why it ever would have, but I can tell you that at one time it did. There you go. Now it all feels thrilling. I am absolutely free to set my life up however I want. Breaking out of my comfort zone is no longer a concept to throw around, not something to read about in a book or simply a metaphysically abstract statement made by someone who may or may not have done it for themselves. It is part of my experience now, part of my own truth, and I discovered it by walking on my own path, from living in my own Paul way. Traveling was not necessary to uncover this. But my life is my life, and like anyone else I am learning from the choices I make. It's all part of conscious living I suppose. Concepts are nice and occasionally high-minded, but alone they are meaningless. Actual life experiences are chock full of meaning and rich in their lessons. If we are paying attention at all, that's where the really juicy stuff of life will always be found. And maybe it goes without saying, but much juice has been squeezed from these last three months of my existence. Trust me on that.
Tomorrow I head back to Hawaii. I don't know what I will do there, or how I will react to being in one spot again, or anything else. Wonderful. I don't need to. I will only continue walking on my path, learning ever more. Sweet.
I also have an old, worn out pair of slippers to accompany me home. They will certainly be laid to rest immediately after the plane touches down. Out with the old, in with the new. Change is constant. Good. Even cheap flip flops are not exempt from the circle of life. It's all part of the journey. Naturally.
New shoes, new adventures. New beginnings. New discoveries. Lots more juice. Perfect.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
So today in Madrid, those trusty black size-elevens took their final European walking tour, Dead Slippers Walking style, through this most fantastic capital city of Spain. Interestingly, I found myself tripping alot along the way, nearly falling a few times. My balance was off, or maybe my head was too far up in the clouds, or some combination of both. I don't know. I took note of this phenomenon and quickly discovering how distracted my mind had become. I wanted to blame the slippers and their poor condition for my clumsiness, yet I knew this was only one small part of the story. An honest look at the big picture revealed the truth. One journey is ending, another one is beginning. Lots of emotions accompany such a shift, none of them bad necessarily but all of them requiring a closer look. This alone was occupying plenty of real estate in my head as I traipsed around on my last day, attempting to take in new sights and stay present as much as possible. In truth, there was so much to consider that it's a wonder I could walk at all.
During the tour I struck up a conversation with a sparkly, blue-eyed Dutch woman named Yolanda. Actually, she was the one who started the whole thing. Upon hearing that I hailed from Hawaii (at the tour's onset our lovely young English guide named Claire went around the circle asking us all where we had traveled from), Yolanda felt compelled to come over and tell me how she absolutely loved her visit to Maui a few years back. Conversation ensued, a couple of hours worth in fact. In between tour stops, and with her gentle lead, I shared the story of these last few months and what they meant to me. I could tell by her reactions that this woman was a mother through and through. I think she wanted to hug me as I started to choke up at certain points in the discussion. Her eyes said it all. It was no surprise when Yolanda revealed that she indeed has four grown children. Surely, the way we were chatting and relating made me feel like I could be #5. By the time the tour ended I was giving her my email address, taking careful heed of her promise to provide me a place to stay in the Netherlands should I ever decide to come back that way sometime.
Perhaps that one little anecdote sums up these past 98 days as well as anything. This type of thing is par for the course on trips such as the one winding down today. Time has no real meaning when traveling footloose, jobless and fancy free for this long. There is nothing else to do except talk to people, and here's the positively brilliant part: there is no time limit to such discussions. I can talk until I'm blue in the face, or until my partner in parlare is blue in the face from listening to my ramblings, or vice versa. It's a very human thing to do, all of this connecting and sharing. Quitting my job in order to indulge my sense of adventure afforded me the opportunity to just be human again, with no distractions or limitations. It's a real gift considering how illusionary the whole concept of time is to begin with. During this trip, time was truly never of the essence. I barely knew what day it was from one to the next. I hardly ever needed to. God, I loved that feeling.
Let me be clear on something here. Even I am not delusional enough to think that life can go on this way forever. I know that work (in one fashion or another) will become a part of my life again, that the cash must eventually begin flowing in more than one direction. I get that. It's just that, well, the options at this point seem far too great to count. This is a wondrous perspective to arrive at, and one that doesn't scare me in the least. I don't know why it ever would have, but I can tell you that at one time it did. There you go. Now it all feels thrilling. I am absolutely free to set my life up however I want. Breaking out of my comfort zone is no longer a concept to throw around, not something to read about in a book or simply a metaphysically abstract statement made by someone who may or may not have done it for themselves. It is part of my experience now, part of my own truth, and I discovered it by walking on my own path, from living in my own Paul way. Traveling was not necessary to uncover this. But my life is my life, and like anyone else I am learning from the choices I make. It's all part of conscious living I suppose. Concepts are nice and occasionally high-minded, but alone they are meaningless. Actual life experiences are chock full of meaning and rich in their lessons. If we are paying attention at all, that's where the really juicy stuff of life will always be found. And maybe it goes without saying, but much juice has been squeezed from these last three months of my existence. Trust me on that.
Tomorrow I head back to Hawaii. I don't know what I will do there, or how I will react to being in one spot again, or anything else. Wonderful. I don't need to. I will only continue walking on my path, learning ever more. Sweet.
I also have an old, worn out pair of slippers to accompany me home. They will certainly be laid to rest immediately after the plane touches down. Out with the old, in with the new. Change is constant. Good. Even cheap flip flops are not exempt from the circle of life. It's all part of the journey. Naturally.
New shoes, new adventures. New beginnings. New discoveries. Lots more juice. Perfect.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Comments
I really share most of your points specially this sentence : "Time has no real meaning when traveling footloose, jobless and fancy free for this long"
Keep going!