“There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – he realized that he was not his car, he realized that he was not his job, he was not his phone, his desk or his shoes. Like a boat cut from its anchor, he’d begin to drift.
“There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – he took the wind for a map, he took the sky for a clock, and he set off with no destination. He was never lost.
“There once was a man who became unstuck in the world – instead of hooks or a net, he threw himself into the sea. He was never thirsty.
“There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – with a Polaroid camera he made pictures of all the people he met, and then he gave all the pictures away. He would never forget their faces.
“There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – and each person he met became a little less stuck themselves. He traveled only with himself and he was never alone.
“There was once a man who’d become unstuck in the world – and he traveled around like a leaf in the wind until he reached the place where he started out. His car, his job, his phone, his shoes – everything was right where he’d left it. Nothing had changed, and yet he felt excited to have arrived here – as if this were the place he’d been going all along.”
Castles In The Sky
A Taylor Steele Film
The true destination of any successful adventure is ultimately home. After a long trip, one usually arrives back with changed perspectives and priorities in life. There is a great mental evolution that occurs when someone, of great enough fortune to travel the world, sees the stark contrast of the developing world. There is no better way to realize ones own great fortune than to leave the resorts, walk the streets of the incredibly impoverished, speak to the 5th generation fisherman who was forced to sell his boat to buy a taxi, or refuse the drunk aboriginal beggar 50 cents towards his next pint.
(Press the play button for sound)
For a while, acculturation to the simple life of the locals is a welcome personal development experience. However, this lifestyle begins to take its toll to the modern westerner. For me, it is beginning to be too much. Heat rashes, infected wounds, mosquitos, and other things that bite me in the night are becoming too much. The daily ritual of waking up with unknown itches, trying to control infections, and avoiding mid-day heat at all costs is making this feel less and less like the dream holiday everyone imagines.
Anyone who has traveled long enough knows that a trip will end in one of two feelings: 1) A feeling that there is much more to learn on this road and it’s too soon to leave or 2) A content ego and a longing for the people and places which create “home”. Travel for long enough, and you’re bound to eventually make it to stage two. I crossed that line this week.
Not to say that I am not enjoying myself. The Indian Ocean is producing good swells this week, and the waves are pumping. I am currently in Kuta, Bali sending off some friends and collecting my visa extension, but tomorrow I go back to the paradise island of Nusa Lembongan for more waves and good vibes. Surf’s up and I am called to the sea. But home is merely two weeks away, and right now that is a very welcome thought.