Oasis or Mirage

Have you ever thought you found the perfect place, a sanctuary from the world, a magical place filled with great characters and magnificent energy? Maybe you thought, this is a place I want to live.  So you put your energy into it, change your course of action and put your efforts into staying in this magical place.  After the illusion has come to pass, the practicality sets in.  To stay here, what do I need to give up? What opportunities have I closed off to open this door? Is this truly the right place for me or do I just want it to be the right place?

I found  a place such as this in the form of a small Western Australian town called Broome.  For a long time I have wanted to come here, I didn’t really know why. I saw it on a map, heard of it through other travelers, but no significant reason why I wanted to be here. I even went so far as to change my method of travel (originally via train) because the railroad does not come anywhere near here.  After traveling for a month via land and coming across other small  Western Australian towns, I thought maybe I was expecting too much  and setting myself up for disappointment, as had happened in Coral Bay, home of the infamous Ningaloo Reef.  Great reef, characterless town.

So when the car I was in broke down south of Broome, I figured I’ll take the bus to Broome, spend a couple nights and be on my way. I took the bus from Karratha, a soulless mining town that sucked the energy from you as you stepped in the town limits. The town existed only to pillage the land and it seemed to have an eternal grey cast. I traveled through 850 km of red dirt baked hard by the searing sun. When I arrived, I felt an incredible energy fill me. Broome was  an oasis in the dessert.  This place was obviously special, but I couldn’t understand why.  Broome is a town of about 11,000 people, with a beautiful beach 4kms from town.  It’s a tourist town, in the best sense of the phrase. People here create their lives, find a way of doing what they love and live from it. This is what I was looking for.

I met  artists, musicians, blacksmiths, seamen, astrologists, pilots, divers, wanderers and wizards. The energy kept filling me up and I decide to stay as long as I should. Life here was relaxed, I spent my days running and swimming in the world famous Cable Beach, I spent my afternoons learning to cook and making food for friends. I listen to stories of the Kimberley, sharks, crocodiles and politics.  I wanted this to be my life.

With attachment comes suffering says the Buddha.  I found a person and a place that I held onto, a life I would like to live. I staked my happiness to this ideal, not realizing happiness can only come from within. When the oasis started to become a mirage, I saw it was all just perception. I love this place, but  I need to find my place in the world. Broome and its people are incredible, but it is what it is, he is who he is, and I have to be who I am. 

Leaving Sydney Behind

I left Sydney almost a month ago, flying over to the west coast to the most isolated capital in the world, the City of Perth. We flew for 4 hours, always keeping within observation distance of the country below us. I looked down and watched the Nullabul Plains, a 2500 km distance that I almost drove across. Watching it from above I realized it did live up to its name, Nullabul, Latin for no trees. I imagined myself cruising along the highway, endless nothingness ahead. The plane landed and I was soon in a city the size of Dallas, Texas.  I had no plan except that I wanted to head up on the west coast of Australia, see the “real Australia.” Places that lend themselves to the imagination as what reality should look like. I expected to find Australian men with wide brimmed hats and a drawn out Australian accent. I was after a slower pace of life, a respite from my 6 months of working in Sydney.

I didn’t have much of a plan except to try and locate a ride north from Perth.  I posted an ad online and figured I would have time to explore the city for a week.  I was having a late dinner on my third night in Perth when my phone rang. “Hello, I saw your ad, would you be able to leave in the morning?” the thickly accented voice said.  We agreed to meet up for drinks and decide then. Alessandro and Janina walked into the pub that night, looking around for me. I figured it was too early for me to leave the next morning, but as soon as I met them I said yes.

We were complete strangers, Alessandro the 30 year old Italian lifeguard that had been traveling Australia for 2 years, Janina, the 29 year old German girl that quick her job in Germany to figure things out, Julia the 19 year old German girl that just wants to party, and me.  We headed north through 4WD only tracks, hugging the coastline, driving on the beach at times.  We visited places that were not destinations, but forgotten places only locals knew about on the map.  We drove through ethereal sand dunes in Lancelin, the pinnacle outcrops of Nambung National Park, then to the other country in Australia, Hutt River Provence. We met Prince Leonard, a man that successfully succeeded from the commonwealth in the 1971 and remains very proud of that fact. We heard about expected a tourist trap, but it was getting late and we needed somewhere to camp.

We met Prince Leonard, sovereign of Hutt River Provence. Eccentric, worldly and captivating, the man is presence to behold.  His natural charm made his royal presence a reality.  He met with us when we arrived, showing us where we could camp, just behind his house and in the morning walked around the grounds with us engaging us our surroundings. An elderly gentleman of about 80 years old, his emphysema was the only thing that cut into his speech. As we left his kingdom later that day I played Tom Petty’s Its Good to be King in tribute.

Our trip continued through amazing national parks, gorges, ancient rock formations and coral reefs.  We woke up with the sun and swam with technicolored fish day after day. We drove through the Pilbarra, becoming one with the swarms of black flies that constantly hounded us. The red earth extended all around us and the constant hum of the engine became our soundtrack. We were dirty, cranky and after spending 24 hours a day with each other for 24 days, we parted. We may or may not see each other again, but for the one month we were part of each other’s memories, that will last a lifetime. 

Nothing to fear, but.....

For the past month I’ve been obsessing. I have been going over little detail of my grand Australian roadtrip. I had bought a car with the help of a good friend and started to accumulate all the necessary gear for travel into the outback. I have been camping in extreme situation, so I knew I needed to prepare. And I did. I constantly searched and analyzed road and weather conditions, I sought advice from other s that have done this type of trip and I thought about it non-stop.  Then I started having nightmares about  dying in the desert. Red sand all around me, my car a skeleton of what it was and I was staring into the sun with parched lips  and vacant eyes. Ironically, I love desert conditions. I have lived in the desert (Arizona) I have been camping and hiking in the desert, I go to a festival every year that involves serious planning because it takes place in a desert.

The trip originally was supposed to be in January, then I put it  off  until weather conditions were better, then a friend came over to visit and I put my trip off again. Suddenly I have no time left. My grand 4 month trip has only 1 month left. And I was obsessing constantly over the details. I was so stressed out, I couldn’t sleep and when I did, I had nightmares. I had a bad feeling about it every since I bought that car.  After annoying everyone I know with my constant neurosis over the trip, I decided to sell the car. After I listed it for sale, no one called. So I decided I would have to take the car on the trip. Then I started getting calls. A couple of days after I decided not to sell it, it was sold. 

I felt a huge relief, followed by regret.  Why did I really sell the car? I could extend my visa and have more time for the trip. Was I hiding behind my gut feeling that something wasn’t right? Or was I scared of trusting myself?

I booked my flight to Perth and decide I would find a ride to Darwin, a 4000 km distance. It’s possible, many travelers are heading that way. I just have to find one that I can get along with and contribute toward fuel and driving. So now I’m virtually hitchhiking.  Do I trust strangers more than I trust myself to do this trip?

I was walking home from work yesterday and I realized this car situation was a representation of how I have handled my life since college. I postponed traveling for others, I have repeatedly said I want to do something, but when it came down to it, I didn’t always make the leap. There are a lot of options I would like to explore, but I start to overanalyze and find fault with my plans.  I may hide behind logic, but I think its fear. Fear of failure, fear of regret. 

Stuck at Home

It has been raining for three days in Sydney and I felt the monotonous beat of the rain on the roof coincide with the way I am feeling about my life. 14,000 miles away from home and I am in the same place I started. I have a respectable  job that pays well but bores me to no end. I have a morning routine complete with hitting the snooze button too many times and running out the door for work only able to finish half my cup of coffee, if I even had time to make the coffee that morning. I do live in a lovely flat with great housemates, but I don’t find myself meeting new people all that often. I find myself buying items I don’t need just because I can. I recreated the life I left behind.

I thought traveling to a far off place would make everything different. But its not the place that needed to change, its me. I recreated familiarity and with that I conjured exactly the thing I was leaving. The security of having a comfortable life is hard to resist. In fact its what many of us strive for, but the trade off is much greater than we anticipate.  Things that are important to me are neglected for the monotony of  routine. After 8 hours of mind numbing office work, I cannot be creative. Its been dormant too long. I cannot be spontaneous and have an adventure, instead I just walk to the supermarket, undecided about what to have for dinner. I tried going for a drive, but found myself driving in circles in the places that are well known to me in this city.

Why is it so easy to neglect the things we love to do? I was having a coffee at the same coffee shop I frequent, watching the rain pass, when I started a conversation with an elderly man. To pass the time he showed me his artwork. He sketches little snippets of life. Seeming simple and everyday scenes, like two people walking in a car park or a rusty chair. He puts a great deal of effort into his work, but he confessed he has only started sketching again recently. In his younger days he sketched and painted and created art all the time, but oneday he just stopped. No reason, just did and he wished he never had, a regret he is trying to correct but laments all the time he has lost. We shared that experience, I used to write so much when I was in high school. But I stopped many years ago, and only started this blog recently. I don’t want any more years of regret, but security doesn’t fuel my creativity. Its been too long since I had a fire going in my soul.

The one thing that keeps me going is that in 5 weeks I am leaving for the desert. Yes I said changing places doesn’t change your attitude, but if there is no security option to fall back on, then something different has to happen.  I will be attempting to drive around the circumference of Australia and through her red center. I will be living out of my station wagon, picking up travel partners and then watching them go again. I will wake up to the spectacular sunrises and see the sun set in a place so barren that the evolution of the animals here are like no other place on earth. I will be far from home in more ways than one. 

Attachment

Traveling and constantly moving has a major downside; attachment and loss. I have met some incredible people, but I know the time will be here soon for me to say goodbye. It hurts every time , even though I always knew it would be this way. I have met some people that don't want to get to know me because they know I will leave. I understand that. It’s a defence mechanism. I do the same, when I realize that I’m attached, I have to pull away, because I know the pain of goodbye will be too much.

  Buddhists believe attachment is the root of suffering.  Is it possible to reconcile un-attachment with meaningful relationships? Can I truly open myself up to people that will not be in my life for a great length of time? We all know that nothing is permanent, so why do we struggle with the idea?  

 As children, we are taught the idea of ownership and attachment at a very early age. Just try to take a child’s toy away, even if s/he is not playing with it. The sense of loss is immediate; something of mine has been taken away. When we lose someone or something valuable, we grieve and remember the times we had with it or them. This sense of ownership and attachment,  causes us to question ourselves. How are we to go on without the object of our longing? Who are we without our attachments? We are part of that mental image; we are part of our desires and ultimately part of what we desire. Every time I say goodbye to a friend I will never see again, a little bit of me goes with them. The mental images of the moments we had together are part of their conscious memory too; thereby we become part of them. Even a short time spent together was not a waste, but a memory of a connection. 

Time

The new year has just started and for many, it is a time of re-assessment of values, goals, and status. The measurement of time makes us realize how quickly or slowly it can all go. Time is the most precious thing we have. Ultimaately its the only thing we have, its limited and we sell it to earn a living. We waste it, spend money to enjoy it, and lose it frequently. When the clock struck midnight this year, we were reminded how quickly it can slip through our fingers. But it provides for a time of reflection, what have I dome with my time? Did I work too much, see my friends and family enough? Did I do what I wanted to this year or did I put it off, spending the future on what I could have done today. It seems endless, until we force ourselves to consider its not. A thought that has us think about our own mortality.

 

2009 was a great year for me. After many years of talking about traveling, I finally did. And because I took the first step, I found it easy to keep going. I thought I had my whole life to do things, but now I realize there is much left to see and do and that I'm running out of time. I was always running out of time, I just ignored it. I was procrastinating my life away.

 

 

I've been working a lot recently. Its become my new excuse on why I haven't posted to my blog, taken pictures or gave a timely reponse to e-mails. But when I had no job, or worked only part time, I did the same thing. Because I assumed I had time and I could just do it later. But later is too late. When the ultimate time marker comes, and we realize the end is near, later won't exist. There will only be now.