The Journey

There is an interesting psychological phenomenon in which people can travel from point A to point B without being cognizant of a single detail from the trip between. It happened to me all the time while driving to and from work each day: sometimes, I would emerge from the car wondering how on Earth I arrived at this location, having not been aware I was driving. The commute became so routine, I could fixate my mind on this and that and somehow coast to my destination. The same can be said for how we live our lives: we pay so little attention to the journey, we have no idea what sort of lives we've been living.

Today, I commemorate twenty-nine full years of life on this planet in this form. Traditionally, this is a time of celebration, a time of reflection, but upon what do I reflect? On so many occasions do we hearken back to days gone by, to time when things were different, when we were different. I suppose it's a matter of what you choose as a frame of reference. I was told on this day in the Year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred Eighty occurred my exodus from the confines of Mother's womb. Much has crossed my sensory inputs since then, prompting all sorts of crazy activity at my synapses.

Geez, when I think on it, it still feels as if only yesterday, I was merrily playing in the schoolyard, lost in my world of make-believe. Funny I should mention that: I learned I don't have to be a child to conjure a fantasy world, though I suppose only the power and influence of an adult can bestow said fantasy on the masses. I remember the multitude of institutional lessons I received from my elders, including such gems as the virtues of behaving myself, doing as I was told and ascertaining favourable marks on my report card so that I may receive a diploma and well-paying job; such were the virtues extolled by my elders, virtues necessary for me to "be somebody".

I learned a few harsh lessons as well - for instance, growing up isn't much fun if you don't rank high on the social hierarchy, though in hindsight, perhaps I was better served not wasting so much energy aspiring to be "with it" - but in the midst of all that crap emerged glimmers of light. For instance, through much of my elementary schooling, my best friend was considered a "delinquent" by all - even my parents, despite knowing how few friends I had, didn't approve because he wasn't cut from the proper cloth. I suppose that's why we were such good friends: neither of us fit into anyone's preconceived notion of "proper". No one around us could understand what it meant to be us; perhaps that's why he's probably one of the best friends I've ever had. Last I heard, he was on his way to prison.

Looking back, I wonder how I could have possibly wasted so much of my life striving to be someone else, someone more "important", while cursing myself for failing to measure up. I figured I would have outgrown such a habit after high school, but alas, I found myself doing the very same in my adult years, only instead of hoping to wheedle popular kids into liking me and girls into dating me, I was cajoling older women and men into giving me a paying job. I felt as if being simultaneously clocked in the skull by two sledgehammers, one telling me to be myself, the other to be someone else.

I've had to put up with my fair share of crap over the years, but through the crap I was able to see the beauty. I see the cracks in the veneer, in what we think "is", and gaze into what is. Sometimes, I still ask myself how things might be if I was "normal", if I looked at a can of cola or drank a beer without thinking how it made its way to my hands or the consequences of consuming. I wonder how things might be if I could remain blind to everything, to embrace the glossy veneer of existence. In essence, I wonder if I should have ingested the blue pill.

Would I be who I am today? Would I have had the experiences I've had, seen the places I've seen, met the people I've met? By remaining blind to what is, would I have cheated myself out of all the beauty that exists in the world? Would I have been love for those around me? Would I be writing this today?

Then again, why ask "what if"? As much as I fantasize about the person I wanted to be in years past, I cannot change what has happened; I can only look forward. Today marks the end of twenty-nine years, but also the beginning of several more, how many I cannot say: perhaps several, perhaps hardly any. It may be important to understand the sins of the past so as not to repeat them, and it may be fun to take a stroll down memory lane now and then, but while hung up on the past, life marches on. I figure the same can be said for our overall rotten state of affairs: try as we might, we cannot undo the harm we have wrought upon each other, nor can we expect to fix the problem by blaming and punishing certain elements of society; we can only drop all the bullshit and begin the healing together, for, regardless of who might be pulling the trigger or giving the order, we are all of us victims.

I thought I had a coda for my latest entry, but alas, I cannot access it, so this will have to suffice for now. Where I will go during the coming days, weeks, months, years, I really don't know. All I can do is just be, and enjoy the ride.

Mahalo.