They say the adventure can never be tamed the moment it is unleashed on the world. The moment you feel the air of a free soul is to be with whom you'd always admired within yourself. I wasn't sure how my life would transfer back into reality after I'd tasted that air and felt that embrace. After I'd moved with the ocean and climbed with the trees. I'd told myself that I could live a "normal" life again so simply because I'd missed the idea of a home and a bed.
Boy, was I wrong.
Normal is a place far away from who I am now; far away from who I want to be. I've been fighting this new, inner issue for a few months now, since I'd landed back home.
What the hell am I doing? I've debated getting an apartment to myself, moving in with friends, finally focusing on a career. But for what?
For a routine? For a chance at settling down? These are things I can't have because I've chosen a life where they do not exist. I've chosen a path where I don't want them to exist because they don't involve an open road.
I have to go. It's an inner want - need - to pack up and leave. I need to meet new people, taste new foods, see new places, hear new natures, love new stories. I need to write books and songs, take photos and paint.
I was asked a question about a month ago by a friend I'd made on my travels. It's taken me some time to answer it, but it has also taken me some time to understand who I've become.
The question read: "What makes you the happiest person in the world?"
Everyone spends their life looking for happiness. Some of us think we have to go to great lengths in order to find it, while some people just have it naturally. We selfishly take for granted moments of so, assuming we can continue to feel it tomorrow.
The truth is, I'm not the happiest person in the world, but I don't want to be.
Happiness is a fraction of the emotions we have in order to grow and feel fulfilled. If I were happy all of the time, I would have never pushed myself to walk across a country, and if I hadn't pushed myself to travel, I would have never met the person who led me to this question.
So what makes me the happiest? Fulfilling my need to learn, and love, and travel. It's windows open during thunderstorms and film drying on a reel. It's wine nights and dream seeking, and showing someone who they truly are. It's life on the edge and days spent in someone else's embrace. It's a van and a mattress and trees in a meadow. It's a rescue dog and star gazing, northern lights and waterfalls. It's everything I need to be and everything I want.
It's writing. It always has been.
But those euphoric moments stem from the hard work I'll need to do in order to get there. The money that will need to be spent, the time that needs to be taken.
This undeniable urge to live the life of a nomad has eaten me up to the point of no return. People my age want to create a career, get married, buy a house, and have children.
I've fallen under a lot of social norms in my life, but this can't be one of them. There was a point when I thought I wanted all of those things, but I was taught differently by the ache of a broken heart and the challenge of a thruhike.
I can't sit idle and search for a career. I need to create one that involves the things that make me happier than anything else.
Writing and traveling, love and music, art and learning.
I'm getting that van, and in a year I'm driving it across Canada. Where it'll take me in time lies in fates hands.