Humble memoirs of simple nomadic addicts from the lion city

Friday, September 18, 2009

Dusty Foot Philosopher

Imagine taking a nibble on a bar of Cadbury, so creamy, rich and heavenly, then longing for a full bite to be able to truly enjoy its awesomeness. That same longing to me, is how I feel about traveling the world.

In a contemporary day and age, we've hemmed ourselves to fit into an equation that allows us to bodily function. We all need stability and security in our lives but it tends to come at the expense of our journey to self-actualization.

This is my way of reconciling two ends of the same spectrum.

I travel to learn about foreign places and faces, which helps me learn about myself.
I travel to be close to nature and feel that I am one and part of a cosmic constellation.
I travel to feel the same wind brush my face, in a different continent and know that it is not a roof that makes a home, and it is always the little things.



In all its goodness, I do hold some reservations. The journey to self-discovery can be treacherous. When you take yourself out of the equation, you exist as a single independent integer, which will continually grow.

Home becomes a strange place.
Your day job becomes a big fat joke.
Your possessions become immaterial.
Your own circle grows and swallows you whole.

Hence, when I heard someone coined the term "nomadic addiction", the negative connotation in "addiction", aptly describes this journey and thirst for adventure.

A green man tells me to walk. A red man tells me to stop. Despite my reservations, I'm not going to let a few signage tell me how to run my life. So here I am, holding on to my dear world map, feeling like I can rule the world with a pair of flip-flops and feet that is covered with dirt and sand.

... Like a dusty foot philosopher.

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