Three weeks ago I bought a 1986 Toyota RV. Next month I will begin a journey through America, letting the road take me, with no expectation and with little attachment. No timetable. My outward direction is aimless. My compass points inwards, to come face-to-face with myself. This is me removing distractions, standing in the open and welcoming a little more truth. Tumbleweed Diary is my attempt at expressing these new experiences; a travel blog, but also a platform to contemplate the past from my current perspective. I have found that the better I know myself, the better person I am, and the better I can help others–and that is my highest motive.
This began five months ago in India on a mattress on the floor. One morning I woke and this notion of an epic American road journey was there. Thoughts of Steinbeck and Kerouac. Not wanting to fall prey to wild impulse, I let it rest a few weeks. When it remained I began to feed it. Then I said my goodbyes to India. I blamed my wanderlust for the departure, not fully understanding why I was leaving, but months later I know. My life’s purpose is not to sit on a beach in flip-flops designing websites. India gave so much, it was a necessarily grand moment, but fulfilled me no longer. I’ve yet to grasp the purpose of this new undertaking, but seemingly the more untruths I remove from my life, the closer I get to the truth. Thankfully intuition doesn’t require full understanding before given heed. I had to go, I have to go, I don’t fully understand why, but I will.
A couple nights ago, here in Middletown, New York, during a short visit, my friend Quinn and I walked. He saw my struggling, my attempt to grasp the entirety of where I now stand and what comes next, a usual tendency of mine amidst great change.
Seemingly the more untruths I remove from my life, the closer I get to the truth. Thankfully intuition doesn’t require full understanding before given heed.Share on X
“You want to know the beginning, middle and end of this,” he said. “But the journey has already begun, and you’ll never reach a final destination. The amazing moments only serve as chapter titles for the substance that makes the next chapter even better.”
And so it is with this life. A thousand colors shifting hues, swirling one another, changing shape—purple passing to red passing to yellow passing to blue. One cold winter night many eons ago, standing on my parents’ deck in Missouri, I was given a rare glimpse of the Aurora Borealis. It’s like that, you know.
Fear always comes with change. It’s an uncomfortable space to occupy, when you remove such securities as finance, relationships, home and future plans. But I’ve found that by spending time in that empty space—either willingly, or as I am now, intentionally—a certain simple freedom enters life. That space isn’t as empty as our conditioning suggests. Now when luxuries come, whether it be money, possessions or a relationship, I tend not to grip as tightly. I enjoy them more today, because my fear of loss is less. Today I know I can be happy with nothing (and sad with everything). Yes, I do have hopes and desires. I hope someday to meet someone to share my life with in familiar and close ways, to share wisdom and grow with, but my happiness won’t be determined there; perhaps deepened, but not set. It would be my folly to expect otherwise.
Today I know I can be happy with nothing (and sad with everything).Share on X
So, friends, thank you for our shared moments that have led me here. Your impact in my life has been significant. You have deepened me. No small moment has gone unnoticed. Perhaps someday I shall see you again on my road. Godspeed.