~ Epiphany ~

~ Epiphany ~

God, I think about it all now. How wild and crazy I was in my twenties. Flying to Iceland alone with a tent, hitchhiking around the island; cycling around the Scottish highlands with a girl I was seeing; living in a Rio de Janeiro suburb with a Brazilian family; hiking ten hours a day in the Nepalese Himalayas. I remember the locals laughing at me and telling me there was no chance I was going to reach my destination in one day. I dismissed their comments and hiked like hell, climbing a 2000m mountain pass in just a few hours. I then walked along a slippery ridge with no guide or safety equipment. Why? I just had to. I just had to live as hard as possible and be on my voyage to wherever it was I was supposed to be. There was no logical debate or reason; I was just following that inner voice that was screaming for raw experience. That voice made the entirety of my twenties a restless, whirlwind adventure. And sitting here now at thirty-one, I have to say that things have finally slowed down. There aren’t many dramatic and daring trips on the horizon. I now go on holidays and weekends away with my girlfriend. My current mission is getting my driver’s licence. I spend my weekends cooking new recipes and meditating and watching football matches. Right now, I’m enjoying a decaf coffee as I write at my desk on a work night, listening to some ambient music while feeling contentment from the simple things.

At one point I thought this kind of life was unfulfilling. I imagined myself running through the wilderness like a crazed animal until my hair was grey and my face wrinkled. I imagined myself exploring distant lands, partying most nights, getting in dangerous situations. Anything sedentary or static was the enemy of the soul. But the truth is now although the thrills are not there like before, there is a great peace in myself that I was missing for a long time while in my younger years. Ultimately, it was a lust for life fuelled by my existential dissatisfaction that propelled me into that thorny wilderness. I felt that traditional life was a con and most people were wasting their lives in trivial and mundane routines. But now – after all those adventures – I feel I have discovered the universal joy that can exist in every moment of life, regardless of one’s destination, should one be perceptive enough to the reality of being alive.

For example, I am living by a river now. It is a river I have ran or walked along hundreds of times. I’m there almost every day, in fact. And when I look out at geese flying above, the sun sparkling on the water, even the rowers going up and down – I stand and marvel at the beauty of the world the same way I did when I stood in front of Mount Everest. I feel a great delight and peace in my soul with this simple sight that I see all the time. And I just want to keep on living beside it and running my route and watching those geese and experiencing the bliss I have now discovered inside of myself. I simply don’t need to jump on a one way flight to some far-off place and get drunk with strangers before climbing a mountain. That life was fun and it made me who I am today, but now I’m in a different and, ultimately, happier place.

Okay, there is the chance that maybe I’ve just become tired or boring. But isn’t that what people do when they find inner peace? The life of a monk is hardly thrilling, but for most they live without the pain and torment that the average person experiences. And I think this is what I want now: to spend my days in peace and harmony. To meditate, to run, to write poetry, to cook, to spend time with my girlfriend and let the light rush through me. I know that without having done the epic journey, I would not have arrived at this sacred space I now reside in. Through intensive internal reflection, I have found my own formula to happiness. It is a place that maybe many people never get to experience, especially around the age I am now. But now I’ve broken through to it, I’m going to make the absolute most of it. Right now I am still sipping that coffee, listening to this music, and letting the words arrive one by one onto the page. I may publish this piece of writing somewhere or I might not. It doesn’t matter. Just the act of doing it fulfils me just as much as all those adventures did. Maybe I’ll be back on the road someday after another existential crisis, but for now I’m enjoying this oasis I have cultivated for myself. Tomorrow I’ll return to that river and watch the sunlight on the water; I’ll kiss my girlfriend on the cheek and hold her tight; I’ll cook a new meal and appreciate the flavour of the recipe. This is my life now. Yes, at the age of thirty-one, my adventure has finally slowed, but how my happiness has blossomed.