I've wanted to write about tons of stuff all day. Seems like the ideas rush at me when I don't have paper or a keyboard anywhere near me. I think what was really hitting me between the eyes today, though, was that we all lead lives of distraction. We distract ourselves from finding our purpose in this life. Allow me to attempt to explain...
Ok, we all learn from a very early age, what our plan is. Our plan is, most likely supposed to be different than our purpose. Plans change from society to society and region to region. I'm fairly certain though, that if you are sitting in front of your computer, that your plan is similar to mine. We are meant to acquire, consume, spend. From an early age we are taught the concept of ownership. We have our desires for our favorite toys, candies, books, movies, music, beverages, bicycles, sporting goods, automobiles, apartments, vacations and villas. We are supposed to acquire what we can, as early as we can.
This interesting idea was posited to me over the Christmas break by my own young niece, Caitlin. I had loaded up my three nieces in my car to take them to the movies. Caitlin makes a joking comment about my car. Its not a bad car, but she is seeing the example of her parents who have a new car every couple of years (indeed their Volvo....very yuppie, indeed, was a lease). They are most definitely keeping up with the Joneses. However, I think my sister and her husband may actually be the Joneses. Though Caitlin is only 12, she has lived in three houses since her birth, each one purchased as mom and dad moved higher up the socio-economic ladder. Anyway, Caitlin talks about how my car has "hesitation", lingo grabbed from her father in his most recent bout of car shopping, no doubt. I informed her that this car with hesitation was transporting her to the movies and that she should be a little more thankful and a little less critical. She tried to toss in another sly comment. I knew that I couldn't be upset with her because she was simply being molded to fit her plan.
While we are following our plan, we manage to lose any sight of a purpose for ourselves, for others and for humanity, in general. Making sure the search for purpose is buried is a whole host of delusions and distractions. We pay for the upgraded cable or satellite package, we paintball, we work hours at our jobs, we buy new toys and gadgets that we have to put time and effort to in order to understand them, we buy into the latest faux news story (Jack-o is in the hospital with the flu, Scott Peterson is found guilty, Kobe is acquitted, Iran is not on our agenda, Iran is near nuclear capability, Iran will bomb us in 6 months, Gay Marriage), among many other things.
So what is the purpose? I wish I could tell you. See, while the plan is the same for everyone, the purpose is based on the individual. I don't know what my purpose is. But I have decided to cut through all the B.S. to try and find it. And a thought occured to me today. What if my purpose is to search for my purpose? What if that will make others around me realize they should look for something more? I really feel like my entire life has been the pursuit of something other than what I currently have. Will I know when I finally find it? Will I keep searching, perhaps in vain?
The one consolation that I have is that through all the searching, I allow myself to have fun in the present, wherever I might be. I allow people to impact me and I hope I have some impact on them. So, purpose seemed to be the order of the day, today. And perhaps the addage that I once read is true: The Truth Is In The Journey
Until Next Time!
2.16.2005
2.14.2005
A Reply To My First Post
I was happy when I checked my e-mail today and found that I had received my first post. Natalia from Colorado (guessing not originally...as English is her third and favorite language). She asked just one question. "Where in Europe?"
I wish I could answer that definitively. I don't have any itinerary, though. I will arrive in Portugal, make my way to Spain, France, Italy, Greece, through Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Holland, Germany, and probably a few others. I will visit all of these countries with only a backpack. I will stay where I enjoy longer than where I do not enjoy. I will try to find small jobs for small money to eat and stay.
So far, from previous travels to Europe, I really have only fallen in love with Copenhagen. It is a beautiful city with beautiful people and a rockin nightlife. Amsterdam, to me, seemed like Copenhagen's grungy brother. Amsterdam had more of an edge. It was "cooler".
Right now I am having the gas pipes in my house repaired. There is a small leak somewhere and the plumber is hunting it down both outside and under my house. Its winter in North Texas and I have no heater or hot water. The electric blanket makes the nights bearable, but the showers will take your breath away.
Prior to today, we had a big leak. The plumber, though, has dug up our entire backyard, re-piped the gas lines to our utility room and to our house, and that seemed to take care of the leak, for the most part. Now there is a tiny leak that he is having trouble locating. We can't have the city inspector or the gas company come back out until the leak is fixed. So, it is looking like one more night of electric blankets and one more morning of cold showers. Ahhhh, the problems that I won't have to endure once I move. Im assuming that in the near future, I will be so happy when I am able to shower, in my travels, that I won't even mind when the water is cold. Here's to warm showers, though.
I have also sold off three more items (2 books and a set of audio speakers) and have to ship them off. But I've been held hostage by the fact that the plumbers truck and trailer have my car blocked in on my own driveway. Since I have been waiting all weekend just for the plumber to look at our house, I figured I would not interrupt him and just wait. I have 2.5 hours til the post office closes.
This post seems to have wandered quite a bit from its reason for being. I guess I will publish now and go see if the plumber has found the small leak, that we are now assuming is under the house.
Until Next Time!
I wish I could answer that definitively. I don't have any itinerary, though. I will arrive in Portugal, make my way to Spain, France, Italy, Greece, through Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Holland, Germany, and probably a few others. I will visit all of these countries with only a backpack. I will stay where I enjoy longer than where I do not enjoy. I will try to find small jobs for small money to eat and stay.
So far, from previous travels to Europe, I really have only fallen in love with Copenhagen. It is a beautiful city with beautiful people and a rockin nightlife. Amsterdam, to me, seemed like Copenhagen's grungy brother. Amsterdam had more of an edge. It was "cooler".
Right now I am having the gas pipes in my house repaired. There is a small leak somewhere and the plumber is hunting it down both outside and under my house. Its winter in North Texas and I have no heater or hot water. The electric blanket makes the nights bearable, but the showers will take your breath away.
Prior to today, we had a big leak. The plumber, though, has dug up our entire backyard, re-piped the gas lines to our utility room and to our house, and that seemed to take care of the leak, for the most part. Now there is a tiny leak that he is having trouble locating. We can't have the city inspector or the gas company come back out until the leak is fixed. So, it is looking like one more night of electric blankets and one more morning of cold showers. Ahhhh, the problems that I won't have to endure once I move. Im assuming that in the near future, I will be so happy when I am able to shower, in my travels, that I won't even mind when the water is cold. Here's to warm showers, though.
I have also sold off three more items (2 books and a set of audio speakers) and have to ship them off. But I've been held hostage by the fact that the plumbers truck and trailer have my car blocked in on my own driveway. Since I have been waiting all weekend just for the plumber to look at our house, I figured I would not interrupt him and just wait. I have 2.5 hours til the post office closes.
This post seems to have wandered quite a bit from its reason for being. I guess I will publish now and go see if the plumber has found the small leak, that we are now assuming is under the house.
Until Next Time!
2.13.2005
Priming The Pump
The whole idea of me running off to Europe is so that I can write. I don't know what, and furthermore, I really don't care what. I just have to write something.
I used to write quite a bit. I actually wasn't half bad. But I stopped one day and never started again. I knew I had written and that was good enough for me. My security blanket was the binder that I had filled. Plus, as you get older, you don't have the same time to write. I was busy growing up and getting jobs and moving and getting new jobs and moving again and moving again and getting other jobs and moving to school and moving again.
Through everything I had done, my writings were tucked away (somewhere) in that binder. I could revisit them when I wanted. I got a little satisfaction at reading what I had written and a little sadness from knowing that I was incapable of adding to them. I always knew I would write again, though. I think the security of that binder kept me comfortable in knowing that I could put off for another day, week or year the task of writing.
From my latest move to now, I have figured that the binder was packed ever so not neatly in a box that I had delivered back to the home I grew up in. I intended to root through the box and discard what was not necessary and to reinsert into my life that which was. The binder most definitely was that which was.
I began rooting through the boxes over Christmas break. Mom wanted the garage cleaned and I needed my security blanket. Mom got her clean garage. My blanket was gone.
So, I think that I need to sit down and begin writing again. I have, for the past couple of months, been in a sort of mourning for my writings. I remember most of them, in concept. I remember none of them, word for word, though. And I was a completely different person when I wrote that binder than I am now. My experiences in the 10 and 12 years since have made the recreation of that binder an impossibility.
I want the binder back, but I know that it is gone. So, rather than mourn for that which I can not recover, I should begin creating my next binder that I might be mourning for in another 10 years. But at least I will have written. Hopefully I will be as prolific now as I was then.
Well, I guess I have rambled a bit too much for the night. But forcing myself to write like this will, in effect, be priming the pump.
Until Next Time!
I used to write quite a bit. I actually wasn't half bad. But I stopped one day and never started again. I knew I had written and that was good enough for me. My security blanket was the binder that I had filled. Plus, as you get older, you don't have the same time to write. I was busy growing up and getting jobs and moving and getting new jobs and moving again and moving again and getting other jobs and moving to school and moving again.
Through everything I had done, my writings were tucked away (somewhere) in that binder. I could revisit them when I wanted. I got a little satisfaction at reading what I had written and a little sadness from knowing that I was incapable of adding to them. I always knew I would write again, though. I think the security of that binder kept me comfortable in knowing that I could put off for another day, week or year the task of writing.
From my latest move to now, I have figured that the binder was packed ever so not neatly in a box that I had delivered back to the home I grew up in. I intended to root through the box and discard what was not necessary and to reinsert into my life that which was. The binder most definitely was that which was.
I began rooting through the boxes over Christmas break. Mom wanted the garage cleaned and I needed my security blanket. Mom got her clean garage. My blanket was gone.
So, I think that I need to sit down and begin writing again. I have, for the past couple of months, been in a sort of mourning for my writings. I remember most of them, in concept. I remember none of them, word for word, though. And I was a completely different person when I wrote that binder than I am now. My experiences in the 10 and 12 years since have made the recreation of that binder an impossibility.
I want the binder back, but I know that it is gone. So, rather than mourn for that which I can not recover, I should begin creating my next binder that I might be mourning for in another 10 years. But at least I will have written. Hopefully I will be as prolific now as I was then.
Well, I guess I have rambled a bit too much for the night. But forcing myself to write like this will, in effect, be priming the pump.
Until Next Time!
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