I have delayed actually leaving for three days. Been content staying on my friend's couch. The gravity of what I am undertaking has finally sunk in. I'm actually doing this; or risk compromising my integrity. Not that I care what others think of me, rather, what I know of myself. I have never taken on such a challenge and yet even since the time just after Stephanie's passing my mind went to just such a crazy idea as leaving behind all that I have never known to embrace the uncertainty that I was experiencing emotionally. This mission, this embracing of the unknown, is the embracement of my fears. The very fear of survival itself. To come to terms with death I must first come to terms with life. At the very primal level, I must not only be willing but also able to survive in order to move forward with my life. If I am not able to face this fear, if I am not able to step forward and face this challenge, then I see no point in doing anything from this moment on and would be better off dead. And yet by facing this challenge, diving in head first, I am showing up to life, I am facing my dragon head on. Whether I survive doesn't matter. Doing nothing matters, and doing something matters. The outcome, on the other hand, I am not concerned with right now. Action. Now that is what I'm interested in. Experiences. Yes! That is what I'm hungry for. And yet, whatever happens, whatever I intend on doing, is not as important as what actually happens.
All of this may not make sense right now, but from where I sit it makes perfect sense. I have no preconceived notions as to what lay ahead of me. I have some ideas of what I'd like to see happen, but I know that whatever happens will be a surprise. That is all that I'm interested in right now. Facing my fears by taking action towards surprising outcomes. With an intention like that nothing can go wrong, for I have no idea what to expect any way! Everything that happens is right! I can't fail for there is no way to fail! And yet I am both terrified and scared out of my mind at the same time.
Perhaps the hardest part was getting rid of my worldly possessions. Perhaps it was leaving behind the comfort of family and friends. Perhaps it was knowing that my home for the next four months would be a tent and my only mode of transportation a bicycle. Perhaps it was knowing I'd have to ride over three thousand miles on a bicycle across uncertain territory and meet with less than kind individuals and even meaner weather. Perhaps the hardest part was knowing all of this beforehand and deciding to do it anyway. Or perhaps the hardest part was my family and friends calling me crazy and begging me to stay and deciding to go anyway.
"I'll never reach my destination if I never try, so I will sail my vessel till the river runs dry."
I'm a mirror (and so are you).