I often find it difficult to reconcile the things I do with who I am, my travels being a prime example. Increasingly I come to the conclusion that I get a voyeuristic thrill by scaring the hell out of myself. I'm not some base jumper, I'm not Survivor Man, and I don't even like carrying large trays of drinks.
I would describe my general philosophy as a sort of incremental pragmatism, and dare I say it, slightly conservative. I tend to consider things very carefully before making a move, but for some reason travel has become a yang to this dominant ying.
I know someone who is currently learning how to parachute, something I would never do. Another friend bought a top of the line Harley, never having driven a motorcycle before. Even the sales staff at Harley Davidson were incredulous as he lurched his way out of the dealership. As for me, I travel, but the need is the same.
It is the basic human desire to feel alive, to get that rush of adrenalin while challenging ourselves to have new experiences, to escape for a time the routine and mundane that comprise a significant and necessary chunk of our lives.
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Make no mistake, you need not spend huge amounts of money to shake off the horse latitudes of tedium.
The solution is simply to go do something that you've never done before, and accept the reality that no matter how small or large you may perceive your world to be, your experiences are dwarfed by the possibilities that remain.
As I write this, I am deeply stressed about my trip to Kenya and Tanzania, my mind at times racing about all the things that could go wrong. What if? What if? What if?
But then another question creeps in.
What if I don't?
Living with fear is one thing, dying with regret is quite another.
http://www.goyestoeverything.com
