At the end looking back

Well, I've managed to make it to the last 10 hours of my time in New Zealand. I'm currently holed up in my cushy, single dorm at the YMCA hostel in Auckland, feet up on my desk, thumbs scurrying over the touch keypad of my phone, and half a nalgene full of illicit beer within reaching distance (the YMCA doesn't allow it here...don't tell). I've been wanting to write for a long time, but haven't quite had the inspiration. Even now, I'm not sure what to write, not sure what one final message I want to send out to my friends, family, and any of the countless new fans I'm sure I've garnered as a result of my posts, but, appropriately enough for an adventure blog, I'll simply begin and see where I go.

Part of the reason I haven't written recently is that I've been in constant motion since April 2nd. Just to prove it: I haven't slept in the same place for 2 nights in a row since then. That's nearly 50 days of being in a new place every day. And so, so very much has happened since then, but let me fast forward to a little more than a week ago to begin.

On May 8th, my little group of Ben, Jess and Izak made it to Bluff, NZ, the terminus of our 1300 kilometer trail (3000 k for Ben). It was unlike any other end to a trip I've ever had because this was the first time the ending wasn't accompanied by a desire to be done. My thoughts and emotions were much more mixed than that. Lets put it this way: as we cruised down the last 1 kilometer of trail, Jess was at my side and posited a very fair question, "how does it feel?"

I turned the question over for a bit but quickly decided my emotions were impossible to accurately tease apart, so I said, "I have no idea...so many emotions. It's like this: you know how when you mix all the colors together you get brown? I guess I feel brown."

Jess laughed and said, "I guess I feel brown too."

Because how are you supposed to feel at the end of such an adventure? How are you supposed to feel at the end of a soul searching journey that included the single most complete feeling of sadness I've ever experienced and the single most complete feeling of happiness I've ever experienced. A journey that included loneliness and laughter, new friends, old friends, and soul plumbing, dirtying and cleansing, not to mention the daily physical rigors of the unrelenting New Zealand wilderness. The trip had become my life and though I would be glad to be able to rest for a bit, I knew it would be impossible to ever have the same experience again. But on top of it all, I was excited, I think. I was excited to go back to my life, to start some parts of it from scratch and return to the familiar parts a new, far more complete man. You see, I have learned a lot over here, about life, perspective, love, meaning, understanding and the person that I am. I consider myself a vastly different person than the shell of myself I had retreated into in 2013. Little did I know on May 8th, as I triumphantly stood at the southern tip of New Zealand, that in 2 days time, on my 25th birthday, a familiar part of my life would be thrown into disarray (unfortunately all too familiarly), my new vision of my self would be challenged and I would have a perfect opportunity to slide back into that dark, awful hollowed shell of myself.

In the year and a half before I came to New Zealand, my faith in people had dissolved. A large chunk of it was stolen away by a Barcelona gypsy family that preyed on the trust of others. Another large piece was excised at the same time the first hole in my heart was opened. And the rest slowly leaked out of me, like air leaks out of balloon that, once bright and bouncy, now sits forgotten, dull and listless, as I saw all around me a world of people that, when confronted with the opportunity to do right or wrong, frequently chose to do wrong, or worse yet, nothing at all. There were bright spots, to be sure, but they could never fully illuminate the weighty gloom that I felt around me.

But then I came to New Zealand. And I walked in the new land, and breathed in the new air, and I marvelled at the landscape and I combed the topography of my mind and I found my demons and I fought them bitterly, tooth and nail, and I cried until I was empty and raw, and I cleared my head in pools of solitude and then...then I let go. I stopped trying to control everything, stopped trying to wrestle and fight and resist, stopped trying to pound order and logic and cogency into everything. Because, you see, life is not order, life is not rigid, life does not adhere strictly to your life plan. Life, nature, existence, it has no master. Our universe is governed by entropy, chaos. Life will unfold as it will, and we can plan and prepare as best as we can, but until we can embrace chaos, we will be doomed to resist it, and that is a battle we cannot win. I'm not saying we should throw ourselves back to the dark ages, I'm not saying we should ever give up trying to make sense of our world and I'm certainly not saying we should abandon our search for meaning and understanding. Chaos does not exclude understanding, but to understand, we must accept chaos. We must be willing to open our hearts to the maelstrom of uncertainty and move with it, not struggle vainly against it. As soon as I grasped this, I felt the reins on my soul begin to loosen. I remembered how to laugh until tears streamed down my cheeks and my body shook. I embraced the chaos of life, exulted in it, tumbled in the beautiful entropy of the universe and in so doing, found a new glowing in my soul. It was warm and heavy, but not thick or suffocating. It permeated my being and bathed everything in a soft radiance. And do you know what this soft, warm glow was? Love. It was love, my friends. It was happiness and joy, peace, calm, quiet confidence, and above all else, it was understanding.

I've had many great adventures on this trip, but alone they tell me little about life. Because, you see, life is not experience, it is understanding. It is learning from experience. It is growing in the face of tragedy. It is radiating in the warmth of happiness. It is courage in the worst of times, it is beneficence in the best. It is learning and growing and falling and failing. It is love through all. It is confidence and strength of character seamlessly bound with modesty, caring and empathy. It is being true to yourself while being true to those around you. It is knowing that very few people will ever truly understand you, that many will challenge you and some will break you, but through it all, you will stay true to this, your code of ethics, your raison d'etre.

So, when my faith in people was shaken again, profoundly and deeply, what would I do? Would I forget my code, my raison? Would I retreat back into a shell of myself? Would I let depression cripple me, infiltrate and paralyze my thoughts and ability to act? Or, would I embrace my new code? Would I remember the way I had learned to see the world and allow myself to be the person I thought I had become?

I chose, and will always choose, the latter. I choose love and understanding. I choose courage and faith. Faith not in a higher being or even my self, but in compassion, growth, and understanding. I choose to be whole and complete anyways. I choose to be...happy. Calm, patient, understated, relaxed and yet fully uninhibited happiness.

The world is an exceptionally scary, dangerous and unforgiving place. Nature embraces chaos, it is ruled by it. But chaos does not exclude understanding. One must be willing to open their heart to the maelstrom and move with it. Breathe and blink, feel, reflect, rejoice. Relax, and remember: it's all gonna be alright, baby, just leave your heart open and your head clear and give thanks for this beautiful, chaotic, uncontrollable life.

For those of you that might be looking to find your self (two words, not a typo), let me proffer this: The realization of the self does not happen by simply forging ahead in the drudgery of the day-to-day. It happens by a thorough, careful and sometimes painful plumbing of the soul. It happens by recognizing your demons, and, instead of going to war with them, making peace with them. It happens when you open your eyes and your heart, when you accept that there is joy and progress and learning everywhere. It will come in shouts and bursts and agony and mirth, but it will never happen in the comfort of the familiar.

I hope you allow yourself to embrace the chaos in this world and ride it like lightning on your own journey to your own understanding and the discovery of your own self. And if you ever need a push or a nudge, or an ear or a hand, I'll be here, as a friend, with nothing but patience, peace and love in my heart.

G