Giant manta rays are amazing. They look like nothing a human mind could reasonably conceive of, save childen's nightmarish creations of the strange thing pushed into the dark in their closet, or under the bed. So cool. Also the vampire squid.
Aram and I are sitting in his mother's condo in Pittsburgh after a very long and really quite productive day of Europe-trip-planning, watching Planet Earth. Not only is there a television here (quite the novelty in itself, as neither of us has ever had a television in any house we've lived in since graduating high school), but there is free OnDemand, and most importantly, there are many, many episodes of Planet Earth. It's comfortable here. Both of the chairs we are sitting in lean back, and have a place to rest your feet.
Coming home to a house is strange but welcome. It's not my house, but I am making myself at home here. It's very nice, and Anne welcomed us to feel at home here while we're staying here (just a few days for fun) while she's in Montana. Even though Aram and I were only on the road for about 12 days, it felt like quite a bit longer. I think partially this is because our days began early and felt full, which is a good thing. Coming home to the van did start to feel familiar, in a way. Unfortunately, I didn't develop quite the fondness for it I think I might have, had it not caused us so many problems.
The fullness of days is something I've started thinking about. Like Aram has mentioned, this disappointment of a beginning to our trip was so very devastating in part because it was hard to feel as though we had taken anything away from it-- a lesson, perhaps, or a certainty of how to improve upon things next time. The failure felt pointless, and as if we had gained nothing from it. This is a difficult feeling to come to terms with.
However, recently I have begun to see some of the positives I can take away from this experience (besides the obvious of the beautiful places we did get to visit, the places we swam and hiked, the people we spent time with). Several times when the van broke down, we were, as mentioned, kindly allowed to spend the night parked in the garage parking lot, next to the mechanic. We had to be up and out early so work could begin. Similarly, when we were sleeping in the van in "unofficial" places, we tried to wake up early and get out and begin our days. We spent all day walking, moving, seeing things. Seeking out places to swim, or even just a pleasing place to set up our camp stove later for dinner. On the days we hiked, we hiked hard, sweating in the heat and climbing fairly steep inclines. We cooked food for ourselves that was good for us and simple to prepare, but tasted so delicious after a full day of movement, of activity. The time we didn't spend moving we spent writing for this blog, and reading.
The point is that when I went to bed, I felt like the beginning of the day was far away, like I had filled the day to a point of personal satisfaction. It has been a little jarring (and even sad, perhaps) to realize that this is basically an unfamiliar feeling, and one I think I've been after for quite some time, but have been unable to even come close to capturing.
I used to be a very lazy person, I think-- at least in the realm of physical activity. I liked to go out and walk around, and I certainly enjoyed organizing things and doing things, but 8th grade rec basketball was the last time I liked moving around, and even then I think I was self-conscious of sweating. I also had a really, really terrible haircut that made my face look like a potato which my cruel family somehow neglected to talk me out of, and my glasses were always a little bit crooked. Playing basketball in them most likely didn't help. I refused to wear sports goggles because I deemed them "uncool" (as if I was really held at such an esteemed level in the first place), and I was too much of a wimp to figure out contacts. The point is, I think I liked basketball, but I never felt comfortable. The result of this was that I spent all of high school hiding in theater, not really a theater kid, but not really comfortable anywhere else.
I got vaguely interested in fitness and health a short while after I got very interested in cooking. I joined a gym, but it still felt unnatural, like I was forcing something. I started running less than a year ago-- that felt good. Unexpectedly good. And then, on this trip, I realized something. I want to spend my days moving around. Hiking all day, walking around all day-- this feels good. It must seem like such a stupid revelation, but to me it is a very important change. I feel good sweating, and I feel better sweating
This trip to Europe gives me another place to challenge myself to just fill my days with movement, activities, to feel like I've earned my sleep when night falls. I think I let my job, and the way it made me feel (namely, utterly and completely emotionally drained) allow me to slip into a kind of sad, submissive existence that I am not altogether proud of. Yes, I went out and did things, but mostly I just sat around.
I think I understand now what I want that isn't that. I'm excited to take this trip, but more than that I'm excited to learn more about the things I'm interested in-- traveling, hiking, exploring cool and interesting places, things I want to photograph, things I want to remember. I want to write more and read more. All of these things I will do during this trip (and more! working, farming, learning about food and agriculture and canning and building things), but the point is that I want to learn how to continue doing them when I return. I want to be more proactive with filling my days with projects. I want to feel proud of what I've done at the end of every day.
This is something which I guess I sort of "knew" in an unconscious sense before we took this van trip in that I knew I wasn't really happy most of the time, and that I felt dissatisfied with my life. I liked hanging out with friends, but that was all I did. I worked, and I hung out with friends. My job made me tense, anxious, and sad (though all the wonderful people I worked with made me feel quite the opposite), and when I got home I desired nothing. I had no creative energy. But that was as far as my understanding of myself went.
So, I am happy to feel at last that I can name something tangible that I took away from this van trip, even though it was ultimately a failure. I understand now why I felt dissatisfied with my days, with my life before, and I understand what I want out of it now and in the future. It's the simple thing of filling my days with things I am proud of. During this trip, that might mean hiking, seeing new places, meeting new people, writing and taking pictures, keeping up with this blog (a little better than I have been! I admit the depressing circumstances had me feeling silent for awhile), reading and thinking about what I'm reading. While we're WWOOFing, that means working hard all day at whatever task I am assigned, and doing my best. It means in my free time going out and exploring the area, interacting with my hosts and other workers, being social, sharing the things I know and trying to learn from other people.
When we return, it will mean coming up with projects for myself. Continuing to read and write. Learn to actually play my guitar. That kind of thing.
Man I guess it's kind of pathetic, to simply have the ambition to have ambition, but for me, it's a good start. Understanding why I felt unhappy and knowing what I have to do to change it-- that's great. I'll take it, in any case.
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