Well I’ve officially been traveling for four weeks as of
today. In one way it seems like the time has flown by but I also feel like I’ve been traveling
for years. Prolonged time on the road has a tendency to do that I suppose.
Anyway, the 8+ hour train ride from Fes to Marrakesh
provided me with an excellent opportunity to do something I often forget I’m
capable of: thinking. Since I have the time to kill it seems appropriate to jot
(or I guess type) some recent ruminations bouncing around in the old noggin. I'm still a little leery of and anxious about posting my thoughts on myself for the world to see, but if I'm trying to give you, dear reader, a real picture of what's going on with me on this trip I suppose it's just as important if not more so than how rainy it is or how many beers I threw down. Anyway, this is just honestly what I was thinking about- hopefully it won't sound too conceited.
On the bus ride from Chefchaouen I wrote the following:
“It just occurred to me. How do you tell something like this
to your friends and family in a way that they could fully understand? How do
you explain what it was like or all the things you saw on a trip like this? How
things changed you or moved you to laughter or tears? How you found out so much
about yourself and then discovered how far you still have left to go?
I’m not sure you ever really can. This type of journey, it’s
something that only the person taking it will ever truly understand, ever fully
grasp the scope of. People that you meet along the way, those that travel with
you, they’ll have some idea- but their journey is separate and unique too. And
no one will ever fully understand their experiences in the way they won’t
understand yours.
Thus it’s something intensely personal to the one who
experienced it. It must be similar to the feelings of soldiers returning from
war. There is no way for them to truly convey what it was like, what they did
and what they saw, how it changed and
affected them. The context, that experience just cannot be fully conveyed.
So for me, I think it will to a great extent always be a
special secret. A unique treasure that only I will have access to. The same as
any traveler has on their journey, no two alike. It makes me both sad and
excited that the extent of this experience is inherent only to myself. And like the soldiers, this for me is a bit of a war; but
my war is a spiritual, emotional, and intellectual war. An internal war. A war
of myself and my journey in life. Only I will ever understand it because only I will have lived it.”
Today, as part of my journey/war/extended holiday/whatever you want to
call it, I thought about one of my greatest fears: the fear of abandonment.
Historically I haven’t been afraid of much. I’m not scared of snakes or spiders
or sharks (although I find all of them creepy). I’m not afraid of ghosts or
monsters or other such gobbelty-gook. I’m not afraid of vaguely menacing
deities. I’m not afraid of death. But one fear that has permeated from
somewhere deep in my subconscious is a fear of abandonment. The fear of being
left behind- of someone, something, life in general- moving on without me.
It’s funny because until relatively recently I had never
really noticed it, or at least never thought about it. But it has been ever prevalent,
affecting my life for better or worse in countless ways, some trivial some
profound. For example, I’ve (knock on wood) never missed a flight. The
inconvenience and cost notwithstanding, I just hate the idea of being left
behind. Similarly, I’ve struggled in situations where I feel I may one day be
the one getting left behind: relationships, friendships, jobs, etc. To compensate for the fear, my natural
reaction is to be the one to abandon first. If I bail first, I won’t get that
sinking feeling of loss, failure, etc.
While I understand the fear and its effect on me, I’ve never
attempted to confront it. And because it’s a deep rooted psychological fear, I
can’t, as Stella says, just use logic to figure out a solution (i.e. make myself suddenly no longer care) and be done. I need to
find my way to the root cause, confront that, and find a way to work past it.
I’m not sure exactly what that root cause is, but I’m almost
certain it stems from or is related to my general dissatisfaction with myself.
Something that was born and raised into me. I’ve always wanted and needed to be
better. Better grades, better at sports, better at everything. I’ve never been
at peace or satisfied with myself or my life. Somewhere in there, in that
development process is the reason for my fear of abandonment. That because somehow
I’m not as good as I should be, I will thereby be swept aside.
So it’s this way of thinking about things and myself that
I’m working on as I travel. And traveling and meeting new people has provided
me an excellent outlet for working through these thoughts/feelings. When I was in Madrid
and befriending all these new people, it was devastating when I had to say
goodbye to new pals departing before me. But as I’ve kept traveling I’m
learning to be able to enjoy the interactions and time together without
triggering the negative emotions that would usually accompany the terminus of
such time.
It’s still a work in process but I’m finally coming to appreciate
things more for what they are and simply enjoy the experience. Stop wanting
things my way, stop trying to control everything. As Stella would say, adopt a
passive stance and let things come to me. Stop worrying about the endgame and just focus on the now.
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