Impossible Goal

I've not blogged for a few weeks. I've been feeling tired and sluggish, and getting increasingly overwhelmed with work and the daily commute. I was letting it all get to me, and my little efforts to sort things out didn't seem to be making much difference. It took a while, but I finally came to the realisation that the only way to sort myself out, was to set myself an impossible goal. No spare minutes, let alone energy, in the day? Think I'll set myself a marathon!

So I have. The Lochaber Marathon on 19th April 2009. I've a good 6 months to train, which should be more than enough. And I can't wait to get stuck in.

No More Of The Counter-Productive

Sometimes, blogging becomes counter-productive. After the initial fizz of starting this blog, and putting the the thoughts into words for the first time, I found myself stuck. I'd gotten too busy thinking about the issues, reading about others' stories, thinking back on past experiences, and dreaming about the future. The distant future. Not next week or tomorrow, let alone today. Instead of getting up with the sunrise and going out for a jog, I was getting up and spending that time surfing the internet... Blogging got me deeper enmeshed in everything I've been fighting against!

So, here I am, I've not been exercising as much as I like to, and my body feels sluggish and tense. I've not been out into the wilds for weeks, and my mind feels brittle and grey just like all the city streets and concrete. Instead of freeing myself from wage slavery, I've been thinking overtime about work. Enough.

As of today, I'm going to sort myself out. Do! Don't think. What is one of the best things in my life? Running. So it's time for new targets, to get me back on track, and moving forwards.

My fitness is about rock bottom at the moment - barely chugging out more than a mile or two, a couple of times a week. But there are some damn good marathons and adventure events lurking over the horizon in 2009. Time to get training, time to get going again.

The Slow Food Manifesto

(Written by founding member Folco Portinari, on November 9, 1989).

"Our century, which began and has developed under the insignia of industrial civilization, first invented the machine and then took it as its life model. We are enslaved by speed and have all succumbed to the same insidious virus: Fast Life, which disrupts our habits, pervades the privacy of our homes and forces us to eat Fast Foods... A firm defense of quiet material pleasure is the only way to oppose the universal folly of Fast Life. May suitable doses of guaranteed sensual pleasure and slow, long-lasting enjoyment preserve us from the contagion of the multitude who mistake frenzy for efficiency..."

True, and the argument is not restricted to food. 'Fast Life' forces us to buy ever more things we don't need, to consume ever more information, to accept wage slavery as a fact of life, and to never ever have the time for the things that matter. Its speed over quality in every way.

The manifesto for the Slow Food movement could teach us a lot for a slower, more rewarding life in general.

Bliss On The Road

The heat in the Northern Territory makes me hot and bothered. Irritable, lazy, nippy. A signpost suggests a range of walks in the Kakadu National Park, all between 1km and 3km, and I drag my heels and if given the chance opt not to bother. In this heat, even 1.8km is too far...!

The mozzies infest the Cooinda campsite, so we retreat into our stinking hot van as night falls, and lie there, sweating in the nude, swiping and squashing the mosquitos that bounce along the ceiling. We are on high-alert and tense to their high-pitched whine. By sleep-time the roof, curtains and sheets are pitted with mosquito corpses and dark stains of our own blood... When we waken with the dawn, the mosquito screen over the window is seething with mozzies, all waiting to get in and gorge on us for breakfast.

The driving is easy, out here in the Northern Territory. They have long, clear, mostly straight roads, with light traffic, that is either going as slow as me or has no problem overtaking. We zip along at a comfortable 80km/hour - the excuse of fuel economy lets me drive a full 50km/hour below the speed limit with no criticism or exasperation from others. The air-con blasts, and we're comfortable - till we have to stop. As soon as the engine comes to a stand-still, thick heat fills the van.

An ice-cold beer out of the eski is my treat, when we come to a final stop at whatever campsite we decide to call home for a night or two. Cold and crisp and refreshing, and the nail in the coffin for any ideas of more driving. I love it. It goes straight to my knees, my joints generally, and I feel woozy-relaxed.

I like this hippy lifestyle. I like not having much stuff, and I could certainly still get rid of more of what I've got. I like swimming in natural swimming holes in the morning, reading my book, writing, sketching or dozing in the afternoons. I love going out for a run in the cool of the mornings before the sun burns orange through the tree canopy.

We sit about and pipedream our futures - travels through Canada, New Zealand, Chile, Ireland and on... I suddenly feel unworried. I could happily 'drop out' after all. I'd manage to find stints of work of some kind. I'm not that interested in accruing lots of the latest and bestest stuff, and that means my hard-earned cash will buy me a whole lot more travel or other simple pleasures...

I'm enjoying this lazy life, but I wouldn't want that to be all there is for the rest of my days. I'm pursuing a reduction in stress and a truer sense of freedom, but I don't want to be idle.

It's freedom to do more, not less, that I'm after.

Image by NeilsPhotography

No rush

Mid-morning and everyone is out - at work, or at school, or at the shops. I have the place to myself. The rain clouds clear, and the ground begins to dry before my eyes. I sit out the backdoor and drink my first cup of tea of the morning. This is a good example of bliss, and perfection. I put the washing on, and I talk to RockRock - who slevers all over my trousers. I tell RockRock what I'm thinking - that this is perfect and I am happy. He looks up at me with big brown eyes, and slevers some more on my trousers. 'What shall I do today?' I ask the dog. He just nuzzles into me. A flock of cockatoos squawk overhead. A pair of galahs pass over. A tiny black and yellow pointy-beaked bird flutters and dives for insects, lands on the tin fence, tap dances for a moment, then flits off again. I soak in the sunshine while I think about it. This is perfect, and there's no rush.

An Essay On Gumption

Something I've lacked, so far, is gumption. I've always been an agreeable sort of a person; sensible, hardworking, and conscientious. Particularly in my younger days, I also had dogged endurance in spades. I got through 13 years of schooling using an unsurpassable 'keep your head down' approach, despite being in a relentless state of fear and dread for most of it. I didn't skive, I didn't rebel, I never scrapped, and I did fine academically. I hated nearly every minute of it, but I endured it steadily and unquestioningly, and most of all, I never ever let on.

I'm now into my 30s, and while I've seen my endurance skills falter, I continue to play my cards so close to my chest that no-one else would even know I was in the game! It uses a lot of concentration, energy and strategy to be on the defensive as much as I am. I quake at the thought of exposure, I can't bear to let people know my dreams, because I hate it when I'm either cautioned against being 'reckless' or I'm mocked or criticised for being 'unrealistic.' And I definitely cringe at the thought of the chorus of 'I told you so' if it all goes wrong. That is why I am an avid reader of the Hobopoet - because reckless and unrealistic is what it's all about.

The satisfaction, excitement, focus and fulfilment I found while away travelling was a revelation. But to keep doing it, to pursue it onwards - that's going to take gumption. I'm still keeping it all under wraps because I'm not ready to hear what friends or family might say. I don't want the wind taken out of my sails, unless I know I can propel myself on regardless.

But wouldn't it all be so much easier if I was upfront about it all? So friends and family would know where I was coming from, and where I was trying to go? So I wouldn't have to put so much energy into covering my tracks and minimising my real emotional investment. It's hard work pretending I don't care, when really my dreams are consuming my every waking moment I feel so passionate and inspired by them.

I'm not going to achieve the life I'm dreaming of by continuing the pretence that all I am and all I want conforms with the daily grind.

Searching Out Others

"Great feats are rarely achieved by individuals in isolation; more often it is a team effort. A team which understands its strengths and weaknesses and pulls together to face the challenge will achieve the seemingly impossible." Robert Swan.

I thought I was alone in all this. I thought it was only me who struggled with the daily grind, and instinctively felt that there must be another way. It was only browsing the internet that made me realise that that might not be the case, and that there are tribes and networks of individuals scattered all over the world who have similar ideas and drives to mine.

Linking in to those tribes helps enormously; searching out others who are doing, or have done, the same thing. And 'the same thing' encompasses all sorts of elements - people who are writers, artists, or entrepeneurs in their field... People who have sussed out simple living or 'voluntary simplicity' as a means of freeing themselves... Explorers and travellers who demonstrate all the different ways of getting out into the world. Thinkers and bloggers who rant about the deeper ideological and cultural issues that underpin how the status quo is maintained, and what it takes to break with the norm. The individuals who are at the various stages of their own struggles and journeys. And the friends and family who not only show how massive progress can be made from everyday beginnings, but also support and contribute to my own journey more than they know.

Searching out others is essential on the journey.

Who's Got The Power?

Trudy from the recruitment agency calls me again! She keeps trying to fix me up with work. I'm not sure if I want to work. I want to know what the pay will be - if it's worth my while. I want to know exactly what the work entails, and what level of experience they're looking for, and does it match closely with the experience I've got. I want to know what skills I might gain from it, and if that fits with my evolving game plan.

Something magical happens. Something that has never happened to me before. She starts trying to persuade me. She offers me a sweetener if I'll take the job. She almost, very nearly, begs me to take it. She needs me to take it more than I need it. She's the one who is desperate, not me! I feel I've got a power I've never had before. I could push it, I could negotiate for a sweeter deal, for something more on my own terms... I've heard other people talk about this, but I've never had the gumption, or confidence, or security to try it. I've always been desperate for any job I go for. I've always made myself super-agreeable, with the attitude that I can make myself whatever it is that they're looking for. And I've always been up against competition that makes me quake. I've always been pitching outside my comfort zone. The power has always totally been with 'them' - the employers with a vacancy. This is something new, and I like it.

What's more amazing is that even when I turn down the job, she keeps calling me. Another job that might suit... I sense in her voice a feeling that I'm all too familiar with - the 'I have to keep chasing, even though I'd rather not.' Don't get me wrong, I know she's not chasing me because I'm excellent at my job - I've a feeling she wouldn't know if I was good, bad or indifferent. That's not the point here.

I also wonder, being choosy, looking for what is truly right for me, not just any old thing... How does that come across? I call up the employer, and have a good chat with a couple of the staff on the team. It's the most assertive and enjoyable job-related phone conversation I've ever had. I get a really good feeling off them. I don't take the job - I don't have the skills and experience they need.

I walk away feeling great. I've made the right decision, for the right reasons. I've not been desperate, I've not sold my soul for a paycheque, I've not conned myself with long-term strategic rationalisations, I've not pretended to be something I'm not.

My 20s hae been all about striving and pretending. I'd like to start just doing and being.

Don't Go For The Job

I got an email from the locum agency, about a potential job in Launceston. I got awfully excited - go back to Tasmania, earn some money, gain valuable skills. I emailed back, asking for more information. Then I got thinking... My year out travelling has been a phenomenal opportunity - taking time out, not having to clock-in to my job 5 days/week, seeing and experiencing amazing landscapes. Over the course of this year, a bit of a dream has blossomed - to pursue my creative potential in earnest. Each week, each day, this dream has grown arms and legs. I find I'm more enthusiastic, confident, with more conviction and direction and passion than ever before. Vague daydreamy notions are gaining sharper edges, they're clearer, and more possible. The ideas in my head are coming easier and easier, in rich and thrilling detail, and connections are fizzing up in front of my eyes left, right and centre. It's an incredible journey.

It also has to be said that a lot of this wonderous stuff has bubbled up out of bored and frustrated periods. The meat and the content and the inspiration all come out of the people I've met and the things I've seen and done - in Tasmania, on the Great Ocean Road, across the Northern Territory. But buckling down and doing something with it... Making the space - in time, in my head, in my journals - to sit down and see what emerges from a blank page. That has come from being skint, physically knackered, and bored silly in a youth hostel in Melbourne or a friend's house in Adelaide. If I was out working, none of this thrillling stuff would be happening in my head or in my journals....

Maybe I need to be conscious of the trade-off. Being skint and less than fully engaged in employment, may be a pre-requisite to success in creative or other self-directed endeavours.

I don't go for the job in Launceston.

A Punch to the Solar Plexus

As I trawl the internet in the library, I tap in a search for artists in the Scottish Highlands. The results come back with Shelagh Swanson (see links). Wow! I knew her at school! I click through her website, and am flabbergasted by her work. It's fantastic. I am so impressed.

And there's another, stronger emotion flooding my insides. I'm not sure what it is. It feels almost like a punch to the solar plexus, my heart is beating rapidly, and my head is almost spinning. For goodness sake, what is this?! It could almost be... Panic? Regret? It's a realisation that the things I privately dreamed of, but put away as childish, unrealistic, or not practical - they're do-able. Not only that, but real people out there are doing them.

An empty, hollow discomfort niggles me as I walk back home for lunch. She's living my dream. The dream I packed up in a box, and shelved for a myriad of reasons. The force of the emotion I'm feeling surprises me. I thought I'd made my peace with my decision, such as it was, made by a daft 17 year old in the throes of a slightly late teenage angst. Not to go to Art School, or to pursue other creative avenues. I had a whole raft of explanations and justifications for it - good, genuine, true and accurate all of them.

• If it was meant to be, I'd have got my arse in gear and done my portfolio instead of mooning about, getting drunk, and going off to do other things.
• If it was something I'd truly wanted to do, I'd be doing my own creative work, regularly, in my own time. And most of the time, I'm not. So I clearly don't have the dedication for it.
• I probably don't have the talent for it either. Sure I was good at school, but that's 'big-fish, small-pond' stuff. I'm probably rather mediocre, and thinking otherwise is embarrassing, and has the potential to be humiliating.
• It's just as well I didn't, because there's no jobs in it. It's not realistic to think I could've made a living out of it.
• I love many of the things I've done instead - languages, travel, teaching, health.
• There's a future to think of, hopefully involving settling down and having a family one day. That'll make home ownership, pensions, security so much more important. So I can't go swanning off on half-baked plans to follow dreams of art, or whatever else.

There, see, loads of good reasons. So, why the emotional upheaval? Is it the realisation that all the negative, pragmatic and 'realistic' voices I've listened to weren't necessarily right. I did give in and accept, at some point, the message that I should put away the childish arty-farty nonsense, and buckle down to a real job. That there was no future in anything I might dream of. Shelagh's website makes me realise - that wasn't necessarily true.

But then, seeing Shelagh's website has shown me that it's possible! I've not missed any boats, and it's not too late. Everything I've done in the meantime isn't wasted, because for all that I have found myself buckling to expectations and trapped in wage-slavery at times... other times I've done the right things that I've been passionate about. I can develop those things, enrich them. I feel a fizzy rush of excitement. Adrenalin. I visualise fragments of my dream life, and I see they're all do-able.

Living and working close to the outdoors.
Running, walking, hiking, cycling lots.
Being largely self-employed and self-directed. A life of late nights and early mornings, working hours fuelled by passion, discovery, creativity.
High intensity stints of work, followed by periods for travel and meandering.
Being part of a community and network of people with similar passions and principals.

It might well be 'unrealistic' but its worth striving for.