and then there are the nomads and the people who live in caves

People actually live like this. Holy hell.

I knew it as a concept but never before now had met these folks in the flesh. I spent last night in an amazing hostel in the hills overlooking the Alhambra in Grenada. It was incredible. Not just because of the view and the general fact that I was there, but also because 90% of the folks who were staying at the hostel had been travelling for months on end with no end to their journey in sight, no 'home' or 'life to go back to.' Most busked, worked at hostels, or sold their wares to pay what little rent there was and buy beer, food, and other necessities. This is a life that can be lived.

I had the opportunity to quiz one young man about his life. He started travelling when he was 18, moved to Australia from the States, managed a restaurant, and in the past three years has been to Israel, Jordan, Greece, and now Spain, where he is working at the hostel I was staying at. Just, wild. When I asked him about his motivation, his reply was, "Because it's the truest truth I have ever known."

And of course this makes sense. Of course, upon meeting these folks, I was thinking to myself, "Man, I should just do this. What's stopping me?" Of course, I felt the urge to just drop everything and busk my way across the face of the planet. Or hole up in a cave somewhere.

But. But. There is some other voice inside of me that tells me that I would feel unactualized in this sort of life. This other voice tells me that, while travelling and living like a nomad would be incredible, I would not feel like I was doing enough to live up to my potential as a contributing sentient being. Of course, this is not to say that the nomadic life is without its unique challenges, or that these folks do not make an impact on the world around them. They were wonderful, warm people. It's just that I think I wouldn't feel satisfied and fulfilled.

But what do I know? For all I know, this concept of self-actualization through hard work is something that has been drilled into my head so that some capitalist can make money off of me, or because this is the way my parents were raised and so in turn raised me. Yes I feel this way, but why? And yes, I know that travelling for my whole life would be immensely satisfying, but why do I feel that living like a hippie nomad would not be enough for me? Is this just something I'm telling myself to justify my decisions?

I don't know. All I know is that I want success in a fulfilling career, and I want to travel the world and experience everything I can. And so I seek to carve out my middle path, to satisfy these two (opposing? I hope not) aspects of myself. I hope to achieve both goals: to travel and see the world, and to choose a career that allows me to make a positive and significant impact on the world around me.

Instead of dropping everything and living with the nomads in the hills in Grenada, I am returning home to start grad school on Tuesday. I embark on the next leg of my journey, with the world beckoning me like an open hand.

these are not things reserved for someone else's life

I used to be the kind of person that would see other people doing amazing things, and say to myself, "That's what other people do - this is not for me." Things like scuba diving, playing guitar in front of a crowd, travelling for work, living by the sea - these were all things that other people did. I am now making the slow transition to becoming one of those people that says to themself, "What good reason do I have to not go after this?"

Here in Torremolinos, Malaga, my wonderful and warm hosts, Angie and Adrian, live in a gorgeous casita right on the southern coast of Spain. You can literally see the Mediterranean Sea from their terrace. Oh yeah, they have a terrace. It's spectacular. Malaga itself is paradise. It's all whitewashed stucco casas with terracotta roofs, bougainvillea and hibiscus rambling up the walls, sun streaming into every window, the sound of a lively plaza and the crashing of the sea intermingling to create a marvellous symphonic cacophony.

Angie and Adie are all about affirmations. They say that one of the reasons that they've been able to get to this point is because of positive affirmations and channeling intention.

I've always wanted to live by the sea. So now I say to myself, when I settle down, I will live by the sea. I will be able to run into the ocean at a moment's notice just because that oceanic feeling strikes me. And I also say, I will learn other languages to facilitate my movement through and around this amazing world of ours. I will work hard to achieve the things I want.

I will live the life that I once would have looked at and said, that's something other people do.

overjoyed with no one to talk to but myself

Travelling alone is amazing. This is the first time I´ve ever done it and it´s fabulous. The weirdest thing about it is completely exploding with joy and having no one to tell. Usually I just find myself gasping and laughing to myself, uttering exclamations of excitement to the air around me. And everyone else who is close enough to hear.

I wish it were appropriate to talk to strangers, moreso. I mean, it´s tough when 75 percent of the people around you speak completely different languages. But all the same, exclamations of joy are decipherable in any language. Luckily I am very gregarious and I´ve been able to meet lots of cool people with whom I can share my enthusiasm while only causing minor annoyance.

Also I´ve been able to practice not only my Spanish but my French as well, as two of my roomates at my hostel are from Paris. I keep mixing up my languages. My cousin Sean said the most insightful thing about learning languages that I have ever heard. He learned Spanish when he went to stay for many weeks in his friend´s village in rural Mexico so he´s a trusted authority on the subject. The word ´fluency´ has the word ´fluid´ as its root, and that´s the way that one should approach language. Let it pour out of you without thinking too hard on proper conjugations or subject-object agreements. That´s what I´ve been doing and though I´m sure I sound like a bit of a heel I´m okay with that. Folks are really nice about letting me practice.

Barcelona is possibly the best city in the world. I know, I know, I haven´t been to every city, but honestly, it would be so hard to top this city. I am just in a constant state of mind-explosion. In a good way. So many advetures and it´s only been two days. My best decision so far was to randomly join a bike tour group. I walked past them in the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter) right before they left and I raannnnnn to the bike shop to hook myself up with one. Best. Decision. Ever. It is SUCH a good way to see the city. Plus it helps the Barcelona is practically made for cyclists. So many more adventures but that was definitely the highlight.

So thank you, reader, for letting me pour my excitement all over you. That sounded bad. Oh well. I really appreciate it.

comfortable and strange at the same time

Can't believe it but I'm in London. England.

I feel comfortable and strange at the same time. I keep having sudden realizations that no, I'm not home. In fact, I am thousands of miles away from home. An ocean away in this old, old place. Despite every street dripping with antiquity, I walk them with an air of familiarity. Perhaps this could just be a posh, older section of Toronto... But no, wait, that building has been around since before my country was a 'country'. Oh my.

I think this weird level of comfort has to do with the fact that I know that everything and everywhere is English. As in, the language. So I don't have to worry too much about getting lost because I can always ask for directions. But at the same time I am such a foreigner. I gawk at everything. I say things like 'bin' and 'lift' and giggle to myself. I die repeatedly at the cuteness at little British accents from little British children. The streets and buildings fill up my heart with a romanticism that is perhaps completely lost on the locals. My wonderful hostess Sam has so far put up with my enthusiasm and giddiness and has been a saint, taking me around to revel in all of these amazing places. Tomorrow I venture out on my own for the first time. I am excited and nervous and so so so grateful to be here.

Everything is amazing. I am here. The realization hits me like a double-decker bus.

when you feel like your life is not your own

Sometimes I can't believe that the life I am living is mine. 

The future remains a concept, always, until it's actualized. There is an inverse relationship between the scale and the real-seemingness of a future event or endeavour. For example: Tonight you have to do laundry and then make dinner, perhaps eggplant parmesan. This seems very real and like it is actually something that will happen. Versus: Tonight you're going to embark on a three-week journey across Europe, and then start graduate school. This seems like it's someone else's life and not at all like something that will happen to you.

Tonight I leave on a three-week journey across Europe, and then I start graduate school. This is my life. Even though I type the words and use the"I" to claim these events as mine, it still doesn't feel real. With travel, especially, events don't even feel real while they're happening. I'll be in a foreign land in a dream in reality. It's strange and wonderful. The irreality of being in a foreign land in no way takes away from my ability to weep tears of joy and revel in the experience, however. 

I drink things in. I soak in them. I revel in them. I love experiences, I love adventures. I want my life to be full of adventures. I want to travel for work. I want to learn things about the way humans function, the way the brain functions, this mystery inside of our skulls. I have so many ambitions that I hope are not ill-founded. 

For now, I walk around in a daze, wondering if this is really my life. How could someone be so lucky?

moving in and out of each others' lives

Are you lucky if you're one of those people who loves their job?

I was one of those people until about six hours ago. It still hasn't hit me that I'm not going back.

It's baffling to think about how freely we move in and out of each others' lives, all of us. I often think about people I knew and loved in the past, and I wonder, what are they doing? how are they feeling? who are they now? We change in so many fundamental ways throughout the course of our lives and yet somehow maintain a tenuous yet unrelenting grasp on this thing called identity. I wonder if this nebulous nature of self is what contributes most to the flux of our relationships.

Am I who I was this morning, even?

In my work, I have had the privilege of having had some sort of positive influence in the lives of young people, people whose lives were, up until today, very much intertwined with my own. People who I saw every week, nearly every day. People who I will not likely see again. Exeunt. 

I think back to my own recovery process, and the supporters who have moved in and out of my life throughout. I always will carry pieces of them inside of me, pieces of their wisdom deep in the folds of my brain and channels of my heart. I only hope that I have been able to leave seeds of compassion, enthusiasm, and hope in the minds of those with whom I worked.

Their cards and messages bring tears to my eyes, happy tears and sad. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to touch peoples' lives, even in a small way. And while everyone seems to have faith in my success in my next endeavour, I am not so sure.

What lies ahead for me? Will it be as fulfilling? Am I unrealistic to want it to be more fulfilling? Will I be able to encompass more of my desires in my next move? Will I be satisfied with anything less? Why do I feel so uncertain?

Foraging for Roots and Grubs

"I think this is an alarming trend, Bethany, this whole 'passionate' thing. I'm guessing it started about four years ago and it's driving me nuts. Let's be practical: Earth was not built for six billion people running around and being passionate about things. The world was built for about twenty million people foraging for roots and grubs." 
- from The Gum Thief, by Douglas Copeland


Sometimes that whole foraging for roots and grubs thing sounds kinda nice.

I mean, it's so daunting; creating and cultivating a life that's worthwhile, fun, fulfilling, meaningful. Finding occupations you can feel passionate about and riding that wave until death takes you over the edge. But it shouldn't be. Daunting, that is. Should it?

The prospect of finding a career path that satisfies you to your core - this is the mandate of my generation. We travel in the wake of our parents' seemingly foolproof axiom: Work hard and you can do anything you want to do. Is this something they truly believe for us, or is it something that they wanted for themselves? Is there a place for this ethos in the modern [Western] world?

I am at a transitional period in my life currently, and historically, I have not been too good about keeping healthy during transitional periods. So I'm keeping a close eye on myself. 

In just under a month I start graduate school. I stumble forward with the reckless energy of a nearly-fumbling flow-state. I use positive self-talk daily and give myself pep talks in the mirror, "You can do this, you've got this, just work hard and you can do it, difficult is not impossible," willing my cognitive faculties to tame the anxiety in my chest. The future sucks me in and I follow with a perfect mix of excitement and apprehension.

My mission is to carve out a path that encompasses all of my desires. I want to run around being passionate about everything that I can - my career, my relationships, my world, my next meal, my next sentence. I must be supremely naive or supremely ambitious - or somewhere in between. I suppose that this blog is a public record of my attempt at figuring this out. 

I feel so gargantuanly (is that even a word? spellcheck does not seem to think so) self-centred for writing this and putting it on the internet. But what the hell. Perhaps someone will find it amusing/helpful.