I don't remember the moment that I decided to make this long journey, but I remember with vivid clarity the precise moment that I knew I would quit my job [see The Deborah Chronicles -- Part 10]. From there it was a gradual allowing of the notion that I would not work so that I could travel. I had to go from notions of setting up a consulting business -- but first an exciting trip! -- to the consideration of seeking overseas fellowships or volunteer opportunities to finally understanding that what I really wanted to do was travel for no other reason than I wanted to.
The seeds that have led to me quitting my job and taking this trip of undefined length are many. Some came from the written word, some from my upbringing, some from envy, some from frustration, some from prodding, some from an accident, and some by nature.
The words: Years ago, my friend Nancy Pennell included in a letter a saying from the Tao that I couldn't quite accept (it seemed so passive!), but that for reasons I didn't understand at the time, resonated deeply (as indicated by their placement on my bathroom mirror):
Do you have the patience to wait
til your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving til the right action arises by itself?
The Master doesn't seek fulfillment.
Not seeking, not expecting, she is present, and can welcome all things.
Sometime after that I read an article in the local newspaper about a man who had retired at age 46 to live a productive life doing -- when he wanted to -- those things he valued and he chose. Another article appeared in the same paper three months later, entitled "Jumping Off the Hamster Wheel" which told of a couple who had left comfortable positions to pursue a life not of leisure but of difference. Another article, this time in Escape magazine (if ever there was an indication of my desire this subscription would define it!), that spoke of the discovery of a gene that makes some people more thrill-seeking, more curious, more desiring of change -- the must-know-what's-around-the-corner gene.
The fact that genetics are at work surprises me none. Both my parents adore(d) travel and made a point of taking a fabulous trip each year -- without the kids -- to interesting and beautiful places. My mother's parents were avid travelers as well. In our family (yes, sometimes the children did get to go!), travel was clearly the way one spent disposable income.
Envy was sparked by my friend Wayan Vota, who in his early 20s took off to Russia to join the Peace Corps, ended up working there and ultimately took off on a journey through Siberia and down through Asia to Australia. I followed his exploits with longing, convinced that such adventures were the province of the young.
Meanwhile, I found myself increasingly frustrated by a life that did not seem to be my own. More written words summed up the definition of that frustration. In William Stafford's poem, "Ask Me," found in Palmer Parker's "Let Your Life Speak," I fixated on the line, "Ask me whether what I have done is my life." When I assessed my life I found that I had a job that, while well-paying and sometimes gratifying, was more often lacking in challenge and meaning. And while I lived in a beautiful part of the country where I could indulge outdoor yearnings and activity, I found New England a difficult place for a zesty soul such as my own. And romance? Sheesh. While ever optimistic and opportunistic, even the best of my efforts did not result in this mythical beast, the Soulmate. And even when I had allowed myself the thought of extensive travel, it was always in the company of this elusive Soulmate. One day I considered the possibility that maybe said Soulmate is already on the road! More fuel to the fire.
The prodding toward taking a trip was gentle and perhaps not precisely intended to have that result. I had engaged a career counselor when I was at that stage where I had decided to quit my job but not necessarily to quit working. She dared utter the word "sabbatical?" At first, I couldn't entertain such a brash notion. To not work was naughty! But it slowly seeped into my pores, so that every work brainstorm was characterized by less and less structure and less and less urgency and always punctuated with the preamble, "but first, an exciting trip!"
Finally, there was the accident. While crossing a street -- in a crosswalk -- I was hit by a car. Or rather, I hit the car because upon seeing that I was about to be mowed over, I leapt onto its hood [see Deborah Chronicles -- Part 7]. I didn't understand at first how deeply that affected me, in almost cliche ways. But the reminder that life is precious and not to be taken for granted has been gratefully received.
Add to this a basic core of high curiosity and sensuality. I want to see things of incredible beauty, both natural and architectural. I want to eat unusual foods, learn new dances, hear different music, and be immersed in cultures not my own.
So, thus, I travel. For as long as money, patience, and curiosity hold out. I welcome your vicarious company!!
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