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.
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