Belonging

There is much in my head this morning. Much that needs not be littered over the net. My time in Alaska has been formative to say the least. Ones first impression is of course of the mountains, glaciers, and other such natural phenomena that leaves the observer with feelings of awe and frailty. But of course visitors have expounded on these things to such a level of saturation I don't care to rehash it here.

An Italian gentleman told me once. "Nicolas, you remember always remember, the meeting is the art of life." And it is meetings and conversations that brings me to this rugged geography. In the course of life I felt very much like the outsider, the unknowable member of the family (perhaps this was merely the angst of living in a large family) but in the course of two years I've met nearly every member of a family I never thought I had. Despite my own trepidation and fear they have integrated me into their own with compassion, joy, and acceptance. I marvel at the similarities the subtle subconscious mannerisms. Taking photos with my two aunts yesterday I was shocked that I looked truly looked like them...there was a continuity to our physical features previously held only by my twin whom I now i have little more than physicality to show our biological closeness.

Belonging is a strange feeling. It was interesting to experience it with my father...but to experience it with others is astounding. Feelings of cautiousness still follow and that faint expectation of the other shoe falling is still lingering....but fading.

yet I feel honored and grateful and over joyed that when I go I can return to a family whom i love and who loves me. Who places no expectation on me other than to live life fully.

I'm still waiting for the email...ambiguity still persists...

...the seas are raging...

Last night, once again unable to find sleep in the confines of trusses and support beams, my mind allowed a much needed self examination. I would be remiss not to mention the unavoidable fact that I have been an insufferable ass. Fatigue often softens rage stemming from uncertainty and tension born of ambiguity. Reliving the conversations of the day, for days are nothing but conversations and narratives, my conversation with a dear older lady replayed. Now this particular lady worked medivac during the Vietnam war, fought for the V.A. for better medical care, and amongst other things had a successful career in Hollywood. Usually our conversations cover history, literature, poetry, philosophy, and horsemanship but yesterday called for a more personal and intimate dialogue. Being a woman of experience any cover up would be noticed so when asked how I was holding up I was forced to say "..terrible...a bit like T.S. Eliot." We traversed the conceptual forms of simplicity, greatness, love, action, movement, and most importantly not being the 21st century Vasco de Gama caught in perpetual circumnavigation.

As we spoke and absorbed she related the best moments of her life...strangely some mirrored mine...bare back riding through snow covered mountains in cougar territory...feeling the 1,200 pounds coming off the ground in rhythmic patterns...flowing seamlessly into one entity...in spirit becoming for a brief moment the mythological centaur...

The purpose of experience and action should lead one to these moments...oneness unity...contentment. My trepidation concerning Africa is that it holds the possibility of all the goals and dreams held since childhood...it holds the road to the continued moments stated previously. My traveling days are far from over...my boots will always have holes...i just hope these travels lead to those moments...not lost in perpetual circumnavigation.

...a hope delayed...

Anger. An old feeling I thought I'd done pretty much away with. Contemplation has all but been pushed out and silence is all but whisper. I feel myself all too tender and sensitive. The meeting between the Tanzanian government, the investors, and the company I will be working for has been pushed back till the sixth of August. The lease will be signed with little delay and we will be on the ground doing the surveying and making the ground ready for rice. But in the interim I wait with thin jeans and worn boots...biding my time and losing my soul.

all in

Restless. My fingers are burnt and stained with tobacco. The consistency of my blood is probably more akin to something found in a French Press rather than anything human. Weeks away, merely weeks, the tentative departure to Africa and still where is the plane ticket where is the certainty? Living with ambiguity is dandy as long there is nothing on the line. I'm all in, no aces in the hole nor up my sleeve and I've got nothing left to lose if this falls through. Sacrifice after sacrifice relationship after relationship has suffered and my alleged "selfishness" has been the cause of many arguments and controversy. A friend asked me what if this doesn't pan out...I couldn't answer. Even the possibility of this not working out petrifies me. The only response was simply that "i'm all in" to which was asked where will you go. Silence again, although my thoughts spoke loud and clear...the ground...but you can't say that to people...

The depth of this need to get across the ocean is non rational....completely and utterly non rational. I need this.

Perhaps I'm struggling to convince myself of my own validity and worth. That I have some fucking reason to be sucking air and taking up space....that if i go and do this...i've validated my existence. Maybe I won't be worthless...

I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone other than myself...