The act of travel, and the art of becoming lost, are at once related and reliant upon each other. Although travelling, at its essence, is the simple act of moving from one place to another, as we all know, it can also be so much more. Travelling imparts knowledge, it signifies rank, class, and intelligence, it can humble, embolden, and enlighten. For all time traveling has been used by humans to expand understanding and cultivate awareness. To begin to truly understand the nature of the world around us, and ourselves, it is necessary to move around, and experience that world. Additionally, the means by which you travel have drastically different influences upon our bodies, and minds. When you travel, it is possible to become lost both physically and mentally. It is just as easy to walk into the wilderness of nature, or be absorbed by the confusion and clutter of a foreign city, as it is to have your values, ideals, and worldview so challenged that you lose all sense of who you are or what you believe in. People sometimes even use travel for the express purpose of recreating their self’s, to relocate, and reinvent their character, personalities, and lifestyles. When we travel we break habits, for some this effect is intended, for others it is an unplanned and scary by product of their new surroundings.
In the last week I have been uprooted from the quiet, simple life of bicycling and climbing I’ve inhabited for the last 5 months, and transported over 1,000 miles at great speeds to be thrown into the noise and chaos of the sprawling metropolis that is Salt Lake City. I have gone from the peaceful existence of a small town, and home, to the intimidating surroundings of a large and loud city. Forsaking my possessions into a storage locker and sleeping on the beds and floors of family and friends.
The pace of this trip was so fast and required such constant focus that I had little time to absorb my surroundings along the way, and even less to reflect on my reaction to them. When we arrived in SLC my mind was so utterly destroyed from the incessant movement of the last few days that I truly felt unglued. I had lost any points of reference, lost my calm, in short, I felt as if I had lost my mind.
At first this was a scary and stressful experience, I had very little to relate to, trouble understanding where or how I could fit in. My mind grasped for landmarks, in vain I tried to understand how I might return to a simple routine and find a way to re-create the minimalist life I’d left behind. I thought of escaping to the mountains but some shred of responsibility kept me from eloping.
Slowly, I realized that this time is an opportunity for personal growth I might not experience again soon. While the life we’d created this summer was a healthy and happy one, this time of change and travel could be used as a chance to break some of my habits, to embrace, or more aptly, let go of, my stress. In a way, to become lost.
Imagine the layers of consciousness and identity that emanate from our minds like nesting dolls. Starting at its core, our gender, race, age, childhood, nationality, interests and desires all radiate like layers of the atmosphere to create our sense of self. Who we think we are, our values and morals, in a word, our identity, this is all contained in these layers that we take with us everywhere.
When we travel, when we encounter people and places that differ from those we’re used to, it is in a way a challenge to our identity. We may react in two ways; to recoil, to react, to preserve and impart our self on the situation, or to adapt, to adjust and relate to these new surroundings, in a sense, to lose your self. One reaction is akin to rocks bouncing off one another, chipped, broken, but otherwise intact. The other is analogous to water flowing in a stream, bending around rocks and changing its current when encountering obstacles. In the modern world we are generally practicing the former, and by doing solidifying our sense of self and our identity. When we choose the latter we are, in a way, slowly peeling away at these many layers of our self to reveal our true nature. We are allowing ourselves to become humbled by the diversity and omnipresence of life. We are opening ourselves up to the reality that we are all interrelated, and interconnected.
I realize now that although the choice to give up my car was initially intimidating and scary , I quickly absorbed it into the many layers of my identity, and thus took it with me everywhere I went. Becoming a bicyclist, in my mind, was a way to cope with the fear and vulnerability that is accompanied by the choice to give up your automobile in this modern car-culture. If I were to seek an escape from the fear and vulnerability that I’m experiencing now, I would be adding only more layers to my identity, and forsaking this great opportunity for the simplification and growth. Constraints of time and space, that have been absent from my life for so long now, seem to exist everywhere. But in dealing with these issues patiently and without negativity, I’m finding the calm that I was seeking.
Finding this calm, this balance in my life, in my mind, during this time of change and transition has been a challenge. Two practices, more then any others, are helping me in this time to become more mindful and live without stress. They are: the practice of being non-judgemental, and the practice of having fun. Being non-judgemental is for me the core of mindfulness. When we judge something to be good or bad, we react to it accordingly, thus as something to look forward to, or become angry about. When we accept things for the way they are, we realize they are neither good or bad, they simply exist. When I find myself reacting to situations as being bad, I can feel myself become tense, agitated, and my mind leaps forward to focus on the possibilities and impact this bad thing will have on my future. By taking a step back from this reaction and simply accepting my surroundings as they are, I give myself a chance to better relate to, and understand them.
The practice of having fun, for me, is about letting go of goals, plans, and desires. As climbers, when we travel, we often bring along a hefty baggage of expectations and goals. We hope to live up to our physical expectations, to achieve a summit or landmark, we desire to move quickly and easily. By letting go of these plans, and choosing to undertake an adventure, or experience my day, purely for fun, I am free to move about unencumbered by what I should or should not be doing, and simply enjoying whatever it is I’m experiencing.
I don’t know what I’ve expected to get from writing this, and more importantly, I don’t really know what I’m trying to give. After all, this is not a diary, or my personal journal, this is a public space to share my pictures, adventures, and thoughts, and in a way I’m writing it for you. Right now I feel like I’m writing for myself more than anyone, for in putting the pen to paper, or typing away here at this desk, is an act of catharsis, the best way I’ve found to simplify my thoughts during disorienting situations. But I’m also writing this because I think you probably know what I’m talking about. Even if it seems to me like my words lose meaning as soon as they’ve been written, a part of me is continuing on the faith that somewhere, you understand what I’m experiencing. You have at one time or another, been shaken and scared from the shock of travel and the reaction to new surroundings. I’m writing because I believe that at the root of these reactions, these experience, is in the automobile. I think that the patience and understanding imparted by traveling around on two wheels can make this world a better place.
Riding around in the city, I find myself in awe of the multitude of automobiles, speeding on their way. Where are they going? What are they carrying? I want to walk into traffic and hold my bike over my head, so that everyone can see, we can slow down, turn off our engines, and ride.
I’ll shut up now before the real rant begins. Get out. Travel. Ride your bike. Get lost.
