Then again, if you are a long-suffering saint, devoted to your sacred work—to sacrifice, and to engage in the joys of helping others—taking such delight in daydreaming would be considered utter foolishness, would it not?
What’s a well-intentioned lad or lassie to do?
Perhaps the proper perspective might be: to follow the prompts of intuition, one’s inner voice, however contrary or paradoxical it may seem—which is not presented as a rationalization for hedonism, but rather as a calming balm for the busyness-in-each-of-us.
So, which will it be: bohemian sloth or keying that soul-spirit into adventuresome mode?
As a self-described “creative loafer” with my own “weird task ministry” this dreamer will never opt to be idle. Instead, I will dream on, because it is not what I am getting away from as much as what I am going away to find. So if you believe this notion is a “cop out” from responsibility, ask yourself: if your head’s on straight and your heart is in the right place, which path is more challenging? If staying-at-home is easier, isn't the real cop-out being more complacent with “things-as-they-are” as a house-holder?
As a restless risk-taker my answer is a resounding GO! GO onward into the unknown, good man, as long as it is not solely for your own selfish vice (while hoping my head’s on straight and my heart is in the right place! <= worth “praying on”).
In any event, jumping headlong, or with both feet, into the adventuresome unknown takes gumption (and it’s a lot more work than being a steady roller on the same old anthill). But admittedly, that sentiment is mine; it is not for everyone. People are different, with various duties and obligations and responsibilities, and all of that.
So, each must consider wisely, depending on one’s nature and unique set of circumstances. After all, I’m talking here about traveling “close to the ground” (without the luxurious amenities that keep you separated from the ordinary people at your destination(s)) and which can be hard work! This is especially true when traveling on one’s own initiative—not a “business trip” or a “canned tourist trap-trip” but just an unplanned, anything-goes-and-here-I-go kind of trip. In the 1960s this was known as being a “rollin’ stone” or just “blowin’ in the wind.”
And who’s to say one-such-as-I cannot carry-on my willingness to engage and help others wherever I may roam? Maybe there are folks in need of something that my presence might help to stimulate; or maybe I need something special from someone “out there,” a special someone I would never have met had I never gotten off my duff (away from this woebegone blue state backwater) to wander a bit? Ah, the vicissitudes of a culturally mutant creative loafer with a weird task ministry!
With that said, the DreamTime proceeds.
1. I live for some months over top of a café somewhere in a small dusty town in Latin America. Downstairs is a welcoming piano. The proprietor knows me fairly well. So he is happy to have me sit down at the piano when Norte Americanos visit, or just when the right mood seems to call for some of my piano playing. I very gladly oblige;
2.
By some incredible stroke of serendipitous synchronicity I run into just the
right “sailboat situation”: an ocean-going vessel crewed by some seasoned and intrepid,
like-minded folks, who invite me along. We sail to exotic locales in the South
Pacific. By doing, I learn the skillful
art of sailing and realize my dream of being (and writing about being) a vagabond
mariner;
3.
While on my adventure, I am invited to join a scientific expedition to Antarctica.
There I am able to investigate one of the most oddly secretive continents on Earth
(or rather, in the Earth) and live to
tell about it;
4.
While out and about on the Eurasian continent, I am contacted by a holy man,
perhaps in India or thereabouts, who offers to (essentially) take me on a sort
of modern day O.M. Burke[i]
investigation studying Dervishes, Sufis, Fakirs, and Christian Monastics by
living among them;
5.
Somehow I am invited to observe and to train with Special Forces on missions to
free humankind from the Babylonian Radhanite Illuminati scourge that has
plagued the planet for millennia;
6. I stumble onto a non-sedentary, group of primitive nomads following their seasonal migrations (could be in Arabia, Africa, Australia, or the steppes of some far-flung Asian locale) who ask me to join them for a while to experience their lifeways;
7.
I am invited onto a vineyard in extreme high altitude Argentina to learn their
wine-making skills and the hard-scrabble ways of the gauchos who live there;
8.
I get an opportunity to experience real Russian hospitality and what it means
to be Russian. Part of this would be to learn new things from their scientists,
traders, and explorers;
9.
To “swim with the dolphins” and learn various bits of secret knowledge, from
top secret projects involving the sea, to off-limits underground systems,
and/or even the so-called secret space program.
There you have it: the incurable romantic goes public with his inner-most dreams, visions and travel fantasies. Whether any of my visions ever come to pass, perhaps readers, after reading this essay, might fall into a similar longing for “the idyllic.” I hope so!
One thing is for sure—this horrid, deranged ground-zero for debauched Vermin we must contend with in strategic hell-holes of the Northern Hemisphere is no place to abide for long, especially for kids, but also for grandpas who remember just enough of how things used to be (even though those “old days,” too, might not have been a whole lot better).
My parting advice?: Go for it. Be not content with “Once upon a time…”—the world is a multi-dimensional wonderland waiting to be discovered and opened-up to our full faculties as human beings. We are spirits who need only prod our bodies into action.
Whatever your inclination and mindset might be, may all your dreams come true. Just close your eyes, click your heels three times and say, "Anyplace but home. Anyplace but home." (Or maybe, " 'Almost' anyplace but home.")
[i]
See, Michael Burke (O.M. Burke), Among the Dervishes (The Octagon Press,
London, 1973), the ultimate spiritual adventure book and a classic.
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