“The heavens themselves run continually round, the sun riseth and sets, the moon increaseth, stars and planets keep their constant motions, the air is tossed by the winds, the waters ebb and flow, to their conservation no doubt, to teach us that we should ever be in motion.”
-Robert Burton
In a self-admittedly audacious move, I bought a one-way ticket to Seattle, assuming–hoping–banking that I will have few enough possessions to make it on the plane without weighing down the undercarriage. It was originally my intention to drive out to Seattle. Take on the open road, explore the terrain that fills the space between my current and soon-to-be stomping grounds; go the way of Lewis, Clark, Kerouac (post-Desolation Peak sequester), and Cobain (pre-self-inflicted death).But seeing as how my increasingly clunker-ized Saturn is a perfect candidate for a chic new government program and not a 1339 mile road trip, the $90 plane ticket from DIA to Sea-Tac seemed a most attractive option. You know, in these tough economic times and all. However, the late Bruce Chatwin would certainly disapprove of my apparent middle-finger extended towards the natural order: “Adrenaline is our travel allowance. We might just as well use it up in a harmless way. Air travel is livening up in this respect but as a species we are terrestrial. Man walked and swam long before he rode or flew. Our human possibilities are best fulfilled on land or sea. Poor Icarus Crashed.” You got me, Chatwin. I’m a sell out. Shoot.
I am learning to love my dearth of possessions. It’s like the you-know-who’s that packed duffel bags and five gallon jugs of water in anticipation of the Y2K pandemonium. I have established a life that facilitates a painless and expedited escape from where ever I may be living.
I do ask myself, with absurd frequency, when might I decide to settle down in one place. I usually have no answer to my own question. It is true that I will be relatively settled in Seattle. It will take me two years to graduate. But where will I be after that? Hawaii? Phnom Penh? Memphis? Botswana? Your guess is as good as mine. And that is, I think, what it’s all about. I like not knowing where I will wind up. I’m wired to move. It’s not the destination, so much as it is the anticipation and the process. Move I have, move I am, and move I shall.
do take my word for it. 