My current emotional state is akin to when I am preparing to hop on a new lead route while climbing that has the potential to push my limits a bit. Granted, as I write this on the penultimate eve preceding my departure, the full realization of what is happening has yet to hit me. I am mostly packed and have realized that 65 ltrs is a bit smaller than I thought. I am greatly relieved that I chose against the 55 ltr backpack I had initially purchased. Even so, the bag I have is bulging to the brink with clothes, camera gear, books (I hate reading on my phone), and other important life items. Despite recognizing I could theoretically live with far less than what I plan to bring, there is an element of nervousness that has arisen in response to seeing how little I will have. Much like the nervousness that tends to take root somewhere in the low stomach and sometimes chest before stepping onto a particularly technical or sketchy rock climb, this feeling seems to have a weight all it’s own. The primary difference in these similar sensations is the duration of the activity creating them. In the case of the rock climb, the physical act takes minutes or hours or potentially days for the more extreme routes. This trip, however, shall take no less than a month and most likely the duration of many months. The trepidation eases for me while climbing as soon as I enter the focused state brought on by the nature of my activity. My nervousness exchanges itself for flow and adrenaline. I await the point at which my current tension will be relieved by such a sensation.
To be clear, agitation is not my only emotion at the moment. I am also exceptionally excited for this journey to finally begin. After two and a half years of working toward this moment it is finally here and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be I think. It is wild to me that two years ago I had nothing but a vague notion of living the dirtbag life out of a ford van and wandering what is left of the natural U.S. I never would have expected that hazy idea to evolve and transform into the clear(ish) plan for world travel it has become.
Ultimately, how I feel is irrelevant at this point. Soon I will step onto Singapore Airlines flight 27 and into another chapter of my life. Hopefully, this chapter will be packed full of incredible stories and amazing experiences. And if somehow it isn’t it will surely teach me lessons about the world and my place in it.
Speaking of places in the world, I am wrapping up this little post while sitting in a Seattle condo overlooking the city and space needle from the north. If all goes according to my current – albeit loose – plan, I will end up not far from this condo in September as I begin class at the University of Washington. That will mark the end of this chapter and the beginning of a new one.
It is striking to me how we tend to mark such abstract occasions in relation to their setting in either time or space. New years 2020, a point in time, marks the opening of a chapter filled with exploring new, interesting places. The inaugural bell of the 2020-2021 school year will mark the closing of that chapter and the first ink of a new one. Both occasions share a place in space but different times, and presumably a drastically different me. Perhaps this observation is meaningless and rambling, I found it, nonetheless, worth noting.
When I sit down to write the next post, I will be approximately 7,500 miles west of my present seat. That fact alone has me in awe. I’m very excited for the journey to come, I hope I can share that with some of you who follow along.
