Tag: movement

One Day At A Time

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As some may be aware I am currently in Greece and for the last few days the idea of where I will go next has been on my mind. The exact details of where are not important, that isn’t going to be the point but more everything that goes into making these decisions. In the past I have stressed about where I will go next and over the last ten years there have been a lot of ‘nexts’. As I’ve got older these have evolved from thinking it would be pretty cool and exciting going somewhere to viewing a place with eyes aware that I may settle there. This idea of settling somewhere stresses me out. It influences my decisions massively and it shouldn’t because so far I haven’t stayed in any of these places but also because it’s completely pointless overly concerning yourself with such an unknown.

The problem with this particular unknown though is that it is enormous. When something is enormous we are bound to become overwhelmed by it and allow it to take over our minds completely. Of course you can’t pick somewhere based upon your entire future, it’s an impossible decision to make, too many unknowns and you’re not only choosing an idea but arguably a fantasy. Everything has to be a one day at a time thing. Right now spending too much time thinking about something like this is a waste of energy because you’re currently doing something else and if your mind is absorbed with a future fantasy then you’re not being present. You’re not doing what you need to be doing and you’re not giving what you should be focusing on the time and energy it deserves. Life inevitably starts passing you by as you’re never there to see or experience it.

There is one other slightly unrelated part but I have in the past thought I should return to cold northern places, like Scotland, because we need a little misery and suffering to appreciate real life. Appreciate in the sense of understanding and thinking but I suspect that misses the point. If you’re Nietzsche perhaps this makes some sense but his reality was only one version. The great thinkers so engrossed in the inevitable suffering of existence weren’t all Scottish, Scandinavian or German. The idea then is can you have fun in the sun while at the same time comprehend the pointlessness and absurdity of life. It does conjure up a strange and amusing image. Perhaps you would start comprehending life through a different lens. Maybe all Nietzsche ever needed was to take up windsurfing.

Renovating The Mind

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Depending on how we live life it can appear that our existence is just one long series of bubbles. I’ve left my previous bubble in other words and found myself in a new one. I say too about how we live our life because for some they only ever experience one bubble. I don’t suggest that is a good or a bad thing, it is just another experience. The two versions of experience can allow us to put differing importance upon a variety of things. For the last ten months I have been working in a bakery making pizzas, driving vans and doing some renovations. In that time I existed in a little village by the sea. It was very difficult not to get caught up in all the little drama that involved and I both thrived on it and was broken by it. Now I’ve followed a familiar path I know and moved on. I’m in Greece living in a boatyard with the intention of doing some work on a boat. Shall we say renovations in a different form, of boat and mind. My bubble is changing and evolving into something else. I am rediscovering different types of importance.

As I look back on these previous months I realise how much I got caught up in an entire world of small things. That isn’t to say they weren’t important because clearly they were at the time. Some I wish in hindsight I hadn’t got so involved in or reacted to in the ways I did, but all it shows is how easily we can get lost in the worlds we inhabit. In a way it could be argued as a good thing, was this an example of me living in the moment. The intensity of the bubble representing how present I was. In truth I know I wasn’t that present as I spent large chunks of the time fantasising about being anywhere else. But that didn’t stop me putting value on what I was experiencing. Now having left and with the time to step back from it all it seems so unimportant. All the things that caused anger, stress and anxiety. What were they for, what was their point and why did I allow them to engulf me.

This is one reason I enjoy moving so much as it allows me to be able to observe things in at least a physically detached way. Mentally I am still not objective but I can see now having left that the fears and stresses were not important, at least not in the way they felt at the time. This detachment then allows for perspective. As I said it isn’t to entirely devalue these moments but perhaps it’s about being able to better understand our own reactions in them. I was thinking recently that surely old people should fear nothing having experienced so much and survived it all. Evidence suggests otherwise but theoretically I like this idea. It fits then with the one that this chapter I have just stepped out of was challenging but I survived it. Maybe not intact but I survived it still. Any damage can be understood, resolved and released, used as experience if and when similar arises in the future.

I know this is entirely about me but my intention is to use my experience and hopefully help another understand their own. We’re never as unique as we like to think we are and simply see, understand and experience moments in our own ways. I take from others my own version of their version and someone else will do the same of mine, relating it in a way that they can understand and learn from. Is understanding and learning not the whole point. Everything else is just a tool for that end surely. One more thing to help us unlock the key to step from one bubble to the next. Another brick in the development of understanding.

On The Road Again

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“See it. Say it. Sorted” says a message on the loud speaker after telling passengers to report anything suspicious. Don’t get me wrong there have been situations involving public transport in the past but the constant need to remind people of the fear they should be in, the potential that there could always be something to look out for, makes me far uneasier than any possible – I’m assuming terrorist – danger does.

I just missed my mouth slightly and spilt beer on my face mask. We can add that to the drawbacks list. I’ve never quite understood why when drinking alcohol is illegal in outdoor public places, on buses, even as a passenger in cars apparently; it is perfectly fine to drink on a train. I can only assume it has something to do with them being able to sell alcohol themselves and it being impossible to regulate train beer from carry on beer. Maybe it’s just a throwback to dining carts. I’m not complaining. Few countries in the world seem to allow such things and I see it as a genuine positive of what is already probably my favourite form of transport. I’ll take a bus if I have to, I’ll avoid the train if it’s too expensive and I’ll take the plane if it makes more practical sense but there’s still something I enjoy about a train that I’m yet to put my finger on entirely. Comfortable, fast, easy, goes through scenic areas. Maybe I should go on one of those long train journeys like the Trans-Siberian or across America, the Andes, Australia and anywhere else that begins with ‘A’.

Despite spending the last few months delivering bread and working in a bakery and pizza shop I seem a little more nervous about this virus though. The little Northumberland seaside village and the Scottish countryside of my parents feels like a little bubble I’ve stepped out of. I’ve gone south where bad things happen. I’m now in the real world. A world with dangers.

I can still only smell beer. This is going to make me paranoid. Is it me, do I stink of beer or is it simply a drop on my mask leading to a false reading. I’m not sure if I can spend the next twelve hours breathing beer fumes.

I’m on the move again then. Off to Greece. I’ve mentioned it previously but I doubt anyone reads every post every day so this is me informing you all I’m off to Greece. I had a short break in Dublin over Christmas but it does feel like I’ve not been abroad for a year now. This virus really has made us change our way of existing. I’m a little nervous actually and I’m curious how I’ll feel about it. I have a habit of wishing for the sedentary life when I travel a little too much and the travelling life when I’m in one spot for too long. Considering it has been a long time since Christmas and an even longer time since my last adventure, the wishing became a slight insanity.

It can be hard to leave though. We become comfortable and after all these years I do wonder if maybe I am getting a little old for all this. Ten years ago I did meet people in their thirties just starting out so perhaps age has little to do with it. We just experience things in a different way. I do find it harder to leave my parents each time though, especially now in this present virus related fear period. I don’t give a shit about potentially suspicious packages, I give a shit about my loved ones coming into contact with a deadly virus. Leaving them at the train station questioning whether it will be the last time I’ll see them but knowing I have to leave regardless. The truth is, life goes on. The whole world ground to a halt for a few months once already and now we just have to get on with it. It is easy to blame the economy and capitalism but it’s human nature. We can’t stand still. Sometimes it’s not always easy though.

One More Piece Of Track

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I sometimes wonder if I’m obsessed with habits. Partly this comes down to spending years moving around and in a way desiring the time for routine and such things. Not being fixed like a robot but just having a familiarity with how the day will unfold and what that means at certain times. Had I not been in one place these last ten months this whole experiment would have unfolded differently. Certainly I thought the summer pieces would have been full of travel and sailing adventures which would have been interesting but there’s every chance life would have been busy in a different way and possibly affected what has still managed to be one piece a day. Having a routine these ten months has helped this to happen.

I left yesterday then as I mentioned, well, yesterday, and am now at my parents until late next Tuesday. I have plenty of time on my hands now so no excuse not to write this but I am having to adapt to a new routine. That’s not overly challenging but it does require discipline to sit down when I don’t know how the day will unfold. You can’t wait until later in the day because you don’t know how later will unfold. This will likely become even more apparent next week when I find myself in Greece. How my days will unfold is anyone’s guess and like over Christmas when I was in Dublin it will likely be a case of grab any opportunity I can.

The reason I go into this is because I found myself watching random television tonight and being unsure when it would allow me the time to sit down and do this. I was going to write about the documentary on trains I watched but like happens regularly I end up just rambling as I begin writing. Trains are really cool. They influenced local and world events. The Indian railway system allowed for Indian Independence while also in a way being a positive of British rule. That’s one way of spinning it at least. The Brits also tried to build a railway from Cairo to Cape Town and got about half way, through some of the most beautiful and arduous terrain. The Russian Revolution became a possibility as the Railway Union backed the Bolsheviks during the revolution and subsequent civil war. That’s without even mentioning the remarkable Trans Siberian railway. I really want to do the trip from Cape Town to Victoria Falls. Trains are probably my favourite form of transport because they take you through wilderness in a way that roads going from town to town can’t.

I watched this program then and it reminded me how much I enjoy doing things and going places. Is that a habit? The habit of choosing the adventurous option. In a way it’s probably something learnt from what life has provided me until now. I’ve learnt this is not just an option but an option I thrive in. It could also be the habit of running away from the challenge of living a life of repetition and work, the struggles that that involves. Life is but nuance and a multitude of credible and rational explanations it appears after all. And like a slow steam train ambling through countryside, this is but one more section of track in search of the elusive final instalment.

Nomads

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Everyone has an idea of a perfect life. One part of that perfect life is the perfect home and this is something that comes in all forms. Over the years I have fantasised about pretty much all of them, usually the random interesting ones or even better the non-permanent structures. While I am enjoying living in an actual flat, and have enjoyed living in the little cottage I grew up in, there seems to be something lacking in living in such places. Perhaps this will change as I age, or if I have a family, but there is something too fixed and permanent about it that never sits too easily for me. Of course were I to acquire an old house that needed renovating, and which I could create something cool out of then things may change.

I don’t deny I am a total romantic. I also make fun of romantics for being romantics and find myself being completely practical and unsentimental whenever possible just to convince myself and others that I’m not a romantic. I then go and fantasise about living in a horse box lorry similar to the one I saw in Nepal, or the sailing yacht traveling the world. Even when fixed the romantic dreams of the hob house surrounded by a permaculture garden. The sailing boat actually isn’t that far fetched it’s just I haven’t got money to buy a van let alone a boat. Talking of water though, my most favourite dream has and seemingly continues to be the canal barge.

About four years ago I very nearly managed to acquire a narrowboat but backed out through my own fears of living such a tame life, more than some external thing preventing it’s happening. That fear seems to have passed as I move deeper into my thirties, but I’m now stuck with the issue of the Scottish canals being tiny and expensive to live on and having absolutely no desire to live much further south than I am amongst the English. About a year ago some plans were drunkenly drawn up with a cousin to build something really cool on a barge and sell it’s produce on the canals running through Dublin. I would mention what it is but seeing as I still think it’s a great idea and nobody has done it yet, I’m not so silly to just reveal the secret.

Anyway the point is that the more I’m in Dublin, the more I’m finding myself romanticising over the prospect of living on the canal here. It seems cheap, 175 euro for a one year license apparently, although I’m sceptical there aren’t other costs, but even then with it being over one thousand in England and anything from one to five thousand in Scotland, Dublin all of a sudden starts seemingly looking like good value. I enjoy Ireland too, and a large part of my heritage is from here, I could even get over the fact it’s a poor mans Scotland. It’s not something that will happen immediately but with seeds planted already they have now been watered, certainly a watch this space moment.

Movement

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I will attempt to write this without sounding like some arse who just wants to boast about all the wonderful adventures I have. It is simply an attempt to give a little background to the person whose words you are hopefully enjoying reading. The reason for this is that today I have arrived in Dublin for a Christmas with relatives over here and I realised I am back abroad again despite the fact I thought I was done with it for this year. Over the last ten or so years I have traveled pretty intensely, convincing myself I’m stopping but ultimately just taking a break. This year I started in Scotland before following this route – Spain – Gibraltar – Spain – Italy – Scotland – Ireland – Scotland – Ireland – Spain – Ireland – Scotland – Sweden – Estonia – Finland – Sweden – Scotland – Australia – Scotland – Spain – England – Ireland – Scotland? Each stay was for a variety of lengths and mostly they were for living, sailing, stag partying and family holidays. It has been quite the year, my carbon footprint must be massive despite the fact I sailed between many of them. Australia alone is the equivalent carbon that I can be allotted for my entire years consumption were we to successfully avoid a two degree rise and ultimate human doom. I don’t regret any of these trips even though it means I am certainly part of the problem. I once spent two years not flying, my high point was the overnight train from Paris to Madrid but I’ve made no attempt to repeat that period of ideological superiority and I don’t mind.

The point is I travel a lot, and after the last trip to Spain I thought I was finished for the year. The question is, will I ever finish. I’ve had many conversations with people who tell me that I am so lucky to be living such a great and free life, and I wince and suffer, I try to explain I’m tired, want some normality and can’t stop despite wanting and being desperate to. And then I’m off again, and so happy in the adventure and discovery once more. For this is a life worth loving but one I can’t bring myself to love anymore until I’m doing it again, or fantasising about such things. People experiencing normality want adventure, and people with constant adventure seem to want normality. What a ridiculous species of monkey we are.

And then I went and got distracted, and drunk…and now I’m drunk. I should leave it there I’ll finish it properly tomorrow.