Tag: travel

short stories

~ The Hidden Treasure ~

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~ The Hidden Treasure ~

“The day had come and gone, and there we sat at the end of the jetty, facing out into the sunset lake. We had only met just a few hours ago and now she was telling me things she had probably never told anyone. She told me deepest secrets, her fears, her hopes, her pains, her joys, her struggles. All of this to me: a random stranger from the bar. Back home people had their defences up; we were all standing upon society’s stage and playing whatever role it was we were supposed to play to be accepted. But there was a certain magic when you crossed paths with a stranger out on the road. Having just met and safe in the knowledge that you were probably never going to see each other again, there was no pretence or image to keep up. The masks were off and everything could be laid bare.

As the sun set below the horizon and the secrets spilled out upon the water, it made me think about how different the world would be if we all just shared what was really going on beneath the surface. So many people have undoubtedly carried the contents of their souls into the abyss without letting them ever see the light of life. One could despair for all the things that were never done and said because we were too afraid to deviate from the social script and say what we really felt. All the adventures that were never pursued, all the works of art that were never realised, all the friendships and loves that never blossomed – all because of the fear of exposing our true selves to the world. Even for the people closest to you, it would often take years and decades to unlock the vault of the soul; but get a random stranger alone for a few isolated moments in a foreign country and suddenly the secret combination is found.

As we both carried on talking about life into the night, I realised that there was something incredibly valuable about these brief and bittersweet encounters on the road. Most of us have treasure inside our chests that we want to show the world, it’s only when we feel free that the locks slip loose and the gold inside shimmers bright and brilliant under the stars.”

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(taken from my book ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ available here)

thoughts

~ Over The Fence ~

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“Life is too short to stay enclosed on the farm of safety all your life. At all times one must be ready to jump those fences of normality and run with the wild horses. One must be ready to enter the woods of madness and build tree houses with the elves. One must be ready to leave this world behind with the adventure scarred into their skin and the sunsets seared into their soul.”

running beach

poetry

~ Bum ~

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~ Bum ~

“When your eyes hit me, I am transported,
out to foreign lands, to which I’m deported;
where I trek cross-country toward the coastline,
and hitch-hike down the highways of your mind;
where I wander through wilderness with no goal,
and sleep rough in the shipyards of your soul.
And each day when I watch the setting of sun,
I don’t care where I’m going, or where I came from;
‘cause when you look at me, I become the gypsy one,
happily lost in your world, like a drifting bum.”

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short stories

~ The Crazy Ones ~

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~ The Crazy Ones ~

“His eyes were wild and his spirit uncombed. He had an alien presence that captivated everybody in the room. As we sat round the hostel bar table drinking beers, he flung his arms around like a maniac and told tales of his adventures. He must have been nearing fifty years-old but still possessed the dazzled and bewitched gaze of an infant discovering the surrounding world for the first time. At every moment he seemed painfully excited to be alive. He chugged his beer and spoke of hitchhiking around America while sleeping on the side of roads; he spoke of fighting off a couple of Venezuelan robbers with a knife; he spoke of helping to build an orphanage somewhere in Mongolia with a group of eagle hunters.

As he regaled us with his tales, I looked around at the younger faces around the table. Some looked intimidated and others looked utterly transfixed. No doubt the younger ones of the group had not encountered a creature of this kind before. Personally I had met a few people like this before out here on the road. I recognised a little bit of myself in him and enjoyed sipping my beer to his stories, although I could never imagine venturing as far down the rabbit-hole as he had done. It was true that I liked to have chaotic adventures – but fighting off some guys with a knife in a country known for drug gangs, gun crime and bloody murders was maybe a little too bohemian for me.

The tales of worldwide chaos and anarchy went on until eventually everyone’s beers had run dry. Looking down at the foamy mass at the bottle of the glass, he got up and headed back to the bar while offering to get a round in for everyone at the table. As soon as he left the table the gossip began. “Well, he’s a bit ‘out there’ isn’t he?” said one girl. “Yeah, is anyone else slightly afraid?” said the guy beside me. “How is someone like that still alive? How old even is he?” wondered another. As they carried on talking I couldn’t help but sit back and smile. I knew that although they were slightly intimidated, they were also secretly fascinated by such a ferocious free-spirit. The look in their eyes had a sort of marvel – an amazement that a man his age could still be living such an adventurous life. With this in mind, they chatted away about him with a sort of curious interest. This is how it was – this is how it always was with these types of people.

Always the crazy ones were discussed with hidden interest. Some were mocked outright, and others were affectionately referred to with lines like “she’s a bit different” or “he’s a bit out there”. Whatever the case, it seemed most people had a subconscious fascination for the alternative mind. People would stand back and observe them as if they were a rare species – some kind of exotic bird with pink feathers. Mostly they fascinated me because they were the creatures who had jumped the fences of normality; they were the ones who hadn’t subscribed to the current version of sanity which helped us all enjoy small-talk down the pub. To me that was a liberating quality I couldn’t help but envy. Without being shepherded on the farm of conventional thought, you were free to invent yourself and be whatever you wanted to be. And what was more desirable than that? In a world that said the winners were the rich people, or the famous people, or the good-looking people, to me it was the crazy ones – the people living life on their own terms – who were life’s greatest success stories.”

(taken from my book ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ available here)

 

 

short stories

~ A Moment Of Clarity ~

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~ A Moment Of Clarity ~

“The door shut and the noise from the outside world faded away. I was in the viper’s nest. Across the table sat a still man, his suit and soul buttoned up to the neck. In his hands he held a pen and a piece of paper that were going to permit whether I was acceptable enough to hand over my hours and become another one of his faithful employees. I was in the situation I loathed most of all: a situation where men became machines, where wild souls were tamed, where narcissists and sociopaths flourished as they spat out a market-approved script of lies and exaggerations.

The interview began and the questions flowed away as formulaic as anticipated. “So what specifically about this role interests you?” he asked first. “What skills from your previous jobs can you apply to this role?” he asked second. “Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?” he asked third.

As I gave a fake smile and chirped out generic answers, I felt the knives cut away at my heart. Here I was: lying and hiding my true self just to ‘play the game’ and obtain a job I didn’t even want. I knew I wouldn’t be staying at the job long term; I knew I didn’t believe anything I was telling this man. And yet I did it anyway. This was the way it was: two wild creatures of the universe trapped in boxes, playing the game in all its ugliness and falsity. Our ties tightened like nooses on necks; our souls suffocated within these suits of society. For some reason I was destined never to figure out, this is how it was.

The interview screeched along and after the final handshake done, I walked out and relaxed the muscles in my cheeks. I made it out the building and onto the busy street. As I stood there back in civilisation, an overwhelming sadness filled my body. It surged up from within and filled my bones, my flesh, my fingertips, my shoes – my pockets. The very core of my being told me everything was wrong about what had just happened. I could hear the voices of my peers and parents and teachers in my head: “that’s life” they would say. “It’s called growing up” they would say. But this was a feeling so strong – so conflicting – that I just couldn’t ignore it any longer. How could lying and denying who you really were be the logical path? How could starving my soul in a job I had no interest in be the thing that was encouraged?

No, I couldn’t ignore that profound sadness and from that moment on I made a promise to myself. I made a promise never to pander to the corporate world again. I didn’t care what anyone else thought of me, or what low-paying jobs I had to work. In those moments in that interview I felt the power of the entire universe tell me to turn my back on that phony world. Working casual jobs and finding other ways to make money for my adventures would have to be the way I went forward for now. There was nothing noble about silencing your inner voice to work a socially-accepted job. There was nothing sane about lying and being false just to bluff your way into a job you didn’t want anyway. In a moment of clarity, I loosened my tie from my neck and walked off freely into the city crowd.

Two years and many adventures later, my bank account is often a sorry sight, my social status is at an all-time low, and I have still never worn a suit or had a full-time job. But the things I have seen, felt, tasted and explored I would not trade for all the gold and riches in the world. I may not have a large portfolio and polished resume, but I have seen the sun rise over the Himalayas, I have camped alone in the perpetual daylight of Iceland, I have watched volcanoes erupt – wrote poetry under the stars – shared beautiful moments with people all over the world. I have delved into the depths of my mind and awakened a way of being that I simply never felt was possible to feel. Yes, I may be an outcast and outsider to many, but on the trail of my own path oh how my spirit soars. As I stay true to who I am, as I continue following my inner voice – as this pen scribbles away and my eyes blaze and burn with the wildfires of life – oh how my spirit soars.”

amoc

(also featured on Elephant Journal here, and available from my book ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ available here)

short stories

~ Undefined ~

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~ Undefined ~

“It had been a day of chaotic adventure and now we were back in the hostel, drinking beers and wine around a table in the courtyard. The drinks and good times were flowing along as the air was filled with the sound of Latin music and hearty laughing. We spoke of the day’s exploits; we spoke of travelling and adventure; we spoke of Wim Hof and Zen Buddhism. Suddenly came the question I despised so much. “So what is it that you Do?” one girl asked another across the table. The other girl looked up at her. “You know for work and that back home? What do you do?”. I sat back in my chair and swallowed a sip of my beer. Immediately I felt the atmosphere change. The ‘do’ question was out there and I knew it was time to categorise ourselves – to justify ourselves as functioning members of human society.

The girl answered how she was a marketing executive back in Sydney. She explained a little about her role then sat back and smiled. Her box had been ticked off: she was an accepted member of the human race. The girl carried on asking the others on the table. One guy was an accountant, another was a nurse – another a public relations manager. Tick, tick, tick. As the question crept around a table, I breathed an internal sigh of frustration. I knew I was about to be judged. I didn’t have a box to place myself in or label to slap onto myself. I was twenty-four years old and had never held a job for more than a year. I had spent the last few years post education going from job to job; from adventurer to adventure. I was officially unlabeled – a wanderer or vagabond in their civilised eyes.

The question went around the table until finally the spotlight shone down on me. They asked me and I began explaining about my life. I explained how I had worked about twenty different jobs for short periods to fund my adventures – of how I took part in medical research trials to afford those plane tickets. They all stared at me strangely. “But what is it you DO?” the girl said again. “Or what is it you want to DO?”… Their steely eyes fixated on me as they internally dissected me with a calculating look. It was a look I had experienced many times back home, but one I thought I was safe from when out on the road amongst apparent free-spirits.

I took a deep breath and tried to explain how I didn’t want a career. I explained that my only aims and ambitions were to see the world, to climb the mountains, to try and create art through my writing. I tried to explain that I wanted to delve down into the depths of the human psyche and explore what it is to exist as conscious creature in the universe. But as I rambled on I realised it was of no use. The looks of dismissal shown my cover was blown; I wasn’t a functioning member of the human race like the rest of them. I didn’t have a box of economic employment to place myself in and for that I was the weird one. My label of seclusion had been slapped on me. I was an outcast – an outsider – an alien.

 “Oh well that’s cool” one person said halfheartedly after a few seconds of silence. I sat back and sipped my beer as the question awkwardly skipped onto the next person. The conversation carried on flowing; I tried to join back in but I felt that something had changed in the dynamic of the conversation. As everyone bickered away, I suddenly noticed that I was a bit segregated from the group. I couldn’t get a foothold in the conversation so I just sat there listening in, dwelling in my own ideological exclusion. Eventually I got a bit tired about it all and walked off to go drink my beer alone down by the beach – at least solitude was a reliable old friend who understood me.

As I sat there I reflected on what had just happened. The more I continued through life, the more it became clear what was required to be an accepted member of the human race. One had to fulfil some sort of title – to fit themselves into an easy-to-distinguish role. It seemed that the fate of a sentient human-being was to ‘grow up’ and become an ‘accountant’, a ‘teacher’, a ‘project manager’ – a ‘marketing executive’. Integrated into society, it was hard to avoid becoming defined in a box of some sort. Whenever people met each other for the first time, one of the first questions asked was always that merciless ‘what do you DO?’. It was a question that saddened me greatly. The context of it being the go-to question when you first met somebody implied that a human-being’s identity was primarily a job role. What made it worse was that when you answered the other person categorised and judged you on what sort of person you were, how much money you likely had, what sort of car you drove and even what politics you followed.

Unlike the other humans though, there wasn’t a singular job role out there that interested me. All I ever wanted to do was go on adventures and write here and there. People said: “oh you like writing: why don’t you be a journalist?”. I did follow my passion of writing into the profession of journalism, but my introduction to that world only left me disinterested and disenfranchised. I wanted to WRITE, not be sat behind a desk in an office typing up some press release or news story I had no interest in. That wasn’t what writing was in my eyes – that wasn’t really what living was in my eyes either.

As I sat there drinking my beer and staring out into the sunset sky, I decided that I just had to accept that I was an undefined being. I was a man without a label; a citizen without a box. I was a person who belonged to tribe or had no particular trade. As I rode down the highway of life, I was destined to continue being undefined – a wanderer with no role other than to rescue my own truth and bliss from the wilderness. I wasn’t compatible with society, so instead I roamed the earth, I stared up into the skies – I drank beers alone and waited for words of wisdom to pour down onto the page. In all the madness of human existence, I was a solitary gypsy spirit doomed to forever wander with that wild wind. That – it turns out – is what I did. That is what I do. And that – I guess as I sat alone scribbling on a piece of paper for the rest of the evening – is what I would always do.”

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(taken from my book ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ available here)

thoughts

~ Beyond the Billboards ~

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~ Beyond the Billboards ~

“The day people learn to be happy with the contents of a backpack is the day a lot of rich people go out of business. Those billboards and advertisements aren’t there to guide you to happiness like they say. They are there to marginalise you and make you feel perpetually incomplete. No matter how much you buy, those billboards will still look down on you and tell you that you need more. If you finally get that phone you want, they will be there to tell you that it’s now old and unfashionable; if you finally feel peaceful and secure, they will be there to scare you into buying the latest form of insurance. My advice? Empower yourself. Rise beyond the billboards. Delight in the free things and find yourself becoming richer than ever before. Watch more sunsets and less televisions; wear more smiles and less makeup. Become the centre of your own universe – the maker of your own material. One day you might just wake up and find you possess contentment. One day you might just wake up and find you possess fulfilment. One day you might just wake up and realise you have something that the greedy people will never have:

you have enough.”

beyond the billboards

 

 

thoughts

~ The Drum In The Deep ~

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~ The Drum in the Deep ~

“Often in this life, if you listen carefully, you hear a faint noise beating somewhere distant inside of you. It is not your heartbeat or your pulse, but rather a haunting sound which beats occasionally, and beats louder at certain times. It beats louder when you are passively drifting through the days and weeks. It beats louder when you are surrounded by people who make you feel alone. It beats louder when every ounce of your being knows you are living a life that is false to your real self. That beating noise is the entire universe shepherding you away from the swamp of a sterile existence and guiding you toward the shores of your own destiny. It is the drum in the deep; the call of the wild summoning you into the lands where your true purpose and fate reside. The sound is unpredictable and can come at any time. Sometimes the drum can beat early in the morning; sometimes it can beat in the middle of the night. Sometimes it can beat when doing the dishes or the grocery shopping or staring out of the window of a train on the way home from work.

I believe that as human-beings we all recognise that internal call into the wild. There are many people out there who ignore the sound their entire life – who stick their fingers in their ears and suppress their natural instinct towards doing what they were undeniably born to do – in going to the places they were born to explore. And it is clear to me that the more it is suppressed and ignored, the more it drains and decays individuals from within. One only has to walk the sidewalks of life to see the people who have totally ignored their innate calling, and as a result have become bitter and jaded individuals with eyes empty of any lust or wonder for life. For me, I could spot that sad look from a young age, and consequently I knew that as soon as that drum sounded, it was time to put on my boots and chase down the sound ferociously over the horizon.

Because the truth is once you are called there is no way to ignore that drum in the deep without letting it gradually destroy you from within. The only way to deal with it is to follow it curiously over the horizon; to venture into those unknown lands and search for the source of the sound. You have to accept it is your master, and that you are its slave to be summoned. Sure, the journey it can take you on may be dangerous, tiring – even painful – but to ignore it totally is to commit some kind of spiritual suicide; it is to starve and suffocate your soul slowly to certain death. Such a fate was never an option for me, and I guess that is why I sit here alone tonight: writing these words, plotting my next adventure – still following that haunting noise ferociously wide-eyed through the universe. The drum has called me into the wild for many years now. It has been an epic adventure – an epic voyage into the unknown. And yet I have still not silenced that drum in the deep. But, truthfully, as I continue this magical journey toward the source of the sound, as I feel my veins burn with adventure and passion – as I look back on a path that has set my soul on fire and made me fall in love with the overwhelming beauty of existence – a part of me hopes that I never do.”

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 (taken from my book ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ available here)

thoughts

~ The Migration ~

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~ The Migration ~


“After a long day of walking on the trail, we stood by the river in a small, sleepy town in rural Spain. Barefoot and drunk, we shared a smoke and a bottle of red wine as the sun set below the hills of the valleys around us. As the river and wine flowed down, he told me his reason for walking across the country. Eyes transfixed to that reddened sky, he told me of his sixty-hour working weeks, his stress and utter disarray with how his life back home had become so jaded and devoid of life. He spoke of the pain, the emptiness and, finally, the decision to leave it all behind with a one-way plane ticket into foreign lands. In that moment I could feel the relief and freedom emanating from my fellow human-being. Clearly these were things he had bottled up inside of him for too long – things that had secretly tortured and broken him down over many years. Now out here walking across Spain, he had decided to make his stand against the absurdity of it all. It was a shifting position that I recognised from myself, where my journey into the wild had begun a few years previously. Like so many people caught, chewed up and spat out by the cultural machine – he had finally been pushed too far and now his response had begun.

    It is true. In this life there comes a time when a man can no longer accept a situation of existence which has belittled him for so long. The breaking down comes gradually over many tickings of clocks and traffic jams and deadlines. There’s more to life than this, his heart demands ever more loudly. After the days of emptiness have been endured too long, a snapping point is reached. It is at that moment when the spirit is unleashed and a great migration begins. Outward he moves beyond those cubicles of pain. Into the night of the unknown, beyond the security – beyond the bickerings of fools and preachers and bosses and politicians. Beyond them and their soulless advice. He moves into the hazy dreamlands where the mad and mystics wander, where the eyes blaze bright like stars – where the traveller stands barefoot and bewitched under skies of freedom and nothing is certain but the pure fleeting transience of life. It is there where the spirit is cleansed. It is there where the ships of the soul set sail toward the shores of destiny. It is there – in those lands of the living – where the world shines clear and life is finally experienced in all its chaos and beauty and mystery and magic.”

the migration.jpg

(taken from my book ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ available here)

thoughts

~ A Thought From The Wind ~

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~ A Thought From The Wind ~

“Watch the sunrises. Watch the sunsets. Walk barefoot when you can. Stand tall against the storm and laugh in the face of stupidity. Soak in the sunlight and don’t feel guilty about devoting time to your passions. Travel if you get the opportunity – even if it’s just to another town or neighbourhood – travel. Explore your surroundings. Explore your creativity and express yourself. Even if your audience is just one person, share the contents of your soul with another. Practice mindfulness and don’t bother wasting money on lottery tickets. The illusion that happiness can be bought with money is just there to keep people toiling away in a hollow rat race. Listen to those starry-eyed children – they have more wisdom than you think. Also listen to the elderly, teachers and gurus, but never forget that true insight and knowledge comes from walking your own path. All the books in this world cannot ever replace the authentic experience of one person rescuing their truth from the wilderness. Believe in your own voice and don’t allow yourself to be marginalised by any institution, culture, religious book or writer. At the end of the day, your very flesh contains the fundamental fabric of the universe; you are the entire cosmos expressing itself as a human-being for a little while. Your skin is literally made of stardust so don’t be afraid to shine, don’t be afraid to dance – don’t be afraid to live your life with such blazing brightness that the stars above you weep with envy.”

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(taken from my book The Thoughts From The Wild, available here)