Any day above ground is a good day. Today is a good day for me. It’s been about a year and a half since my last article here on Vagabond Journey. I’ve had emails from people who asked, “Well, what happened?” Today I’ll try to answer that question.
Am I still traveling? You bet.
Where am I? Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico.
Why did I stopped writing? That, my friends, is not so easy to answer but I’ll try.
I have said it before: Life is a trip. We are all travelers on Spaceship Earth. We are all passengers together hurtling through space and time. You may be sitting in an apartment in Boise, Idaho where you’ve lived for ten years but you are still on this trip with the rest of us. In my (almost) 66 years on this spaceship I have found the greatest trips take place not in time or space but in my head. And that is mostly where I have been for the last year and a half.
Things have happened during that time. I have had personal relationships that did not end well. I have been struggling with an illness I have been denying all my life. I have had good friends die. All these things caused me to ask a question: Just what in hell am I doing? An old(er) man, carrying a backpack, homeless, and (yes!) alone most of the time. I went back and re-read my blog. I re-read my articles on Vagabond Journey. Neither gave me an answer. And then I read a quote I have in the sidebar on my blog. It is from a movie called The Razor’s Edge, starring Bill Murray as Larry Darrell. It is a movie I highly recommend to one and all. The quote is as follows:
“I’ve got a second chance at life. I’m not going to waste it on a big house, a new car every year, and a bunch of friends who want a big house and a new car every year.” – Larry
And that is the answer. That is what I am doing. I am out here being a traveler because I don’t want to be “there” being an old(er) man, puttering around a house and yard all day, talking to the old guy next door about the new lawn edger he just bought or which football team won last Sunday. I don’t want to be fastened up in a small apartment waiting for Meals on Wheels to bring me lunch because I can’t afford to eat out and, even more so, waiting because the person who delivers the meal will most likely be the only person I talk to all day. I don’t want that. I would rather die out here on the road.
So, coming back to the question of why I stopped writing. I stopped because I didn’t want to discourage anyone from living this life. I didn’t want to write about the problems and sorrows and illness and heartbreak I was finding out here. Because in the end, knowing that out here on the road I may still die in some forgotten town in some forgotten room alone, at least I will have lived.
And in the end, I know I am not really alone. There are seven billion (and counting) other passengers on this spaceship traveling with me. Most just choose to stick to the main roads their culture have paved for them. But, we will all get to the end of the trail somewhere. I choose to veer away from the crowd and take the scenic route.