I have a desk, a chair and a lamp. On my desk I have a house plant and a cup of homemade coffee. Behind me is a bed, my bed. Hashbrown is sleeping by the window catching the last few sun rays of this sunny winter day. I’m back, I’m home.
After arriving in Ushuaia via bus I was back to being a backpacker. Returning to the hostel where I left my belongings I had a few extra days freed up before my departure to Buenos Aires.
Patagonia wasn’t the same without the bike or my own way of getting around. I quickly realized I was just burning days and moved my flight up a few days from Ushuaia to Buenos Aires.
Spending the last of my time walking the town and wondering if I would ever see a 11:30pm sunset again. After trashing some stuff and consolidating my belongings, everything fit into two black duffel bags; 35L and 90L respectively, a backpack and my helmet. Seeing it on the floor made, it more real.
This chapter is ending, blank pages await.
Making my way to the airport heading to Buenos Aires it all felt a bit of auto pilot. Not thinking too much for fear of freaking out.
Sitting next to an American woman on vacation we chatted for the duration of the flight about our trips. Her vacation was certainly different than mine but there are always common themes.
My responses to some of her questions were unexpected and caught her off guard. She liked the idea for my book and asked to be on the list to read it once it’s done.
I enjoyed speaking with her but the all too anxious familiar feeling of not fitting into the ‘old’ world presented itself. She understood and could agree with the strange synchronicities of the universe but was much more comfortable talking about the roll out of the new product for her company. Constantly reverting back to the looming deadlines and backlog of emails awaiting her return.
It’s not her fault she doesn’t know what I'm talking about or have a personal opinion. She just never experienced it. She knows her world and I know mine. The one I created after handing in my resignation letter in the fall of 2017.
Buenos Aires is a massive city but it is beautiful. The buildings look as if it could be in Europe but the 9pm early bird dinner specials reminds me I am still very much in South America.
With about a week left before my flight to Denver I didn’t have much of a plan. The weather was tough with torrential rain clouds blanketing the city for most of the week. Venturing out into the city with the last round of hostel friends. Being close to the holidays many people were ending their trips and heading home. We were all in a similar mindset, curious what would be next.
I was exhausted and took the rainy days to sleep and eat. Exploring the city a for a few days while preparing for my arrival home.
The last history lesson provided by the ‘Dirty War’ of Argentina’s military leaders from ’76-’83 by way of touring the torture camps.
Nestled between skyscraper condo buildings and upscale gyms laid the site of ESMA, just two blocks from the stadium for the ’78 world cup.
During the seven year campaign those viewed as a political threats were kidnapped, tortured, and disappeared. The camp operating like a sadistic printing press keeping a tight schedule by clearing the camp every Wednesday.
If you walk around the city you might spot one of the memorial plaques on the sidewalk, they are everywhere. They display the name of the person and the date they were kidnapped, the plaque is placed where they were taken and never seen again. 30,000 people were taken and murdered, only 150 surviving once the military was overthrown.
I had no idea Argentina had such an event in their recent history. It is obviously a terrible thing to have happened but commend the following leaders for making a point for the event to be remembered. Keeping the location open and operational for locals and tourist to visit, learn, and remember. They don’t want it to happen again and do so by making it impossible to forget.
I imagine if the shoe was on America’s foot, this is something that would be swept under the rug and forgotten about by the next 4th of July.
The last week felt like a plane in a holding pattern. My budget is gone as was my desire to do much of anything. It was a good week and when the time came to get the taxi to the airport, I was ready.
Staring out the window of the cab reflecting back on the past so many days and wondering what will lie ahead.
I thought back to the people I had met, the people that made a positive impact and the ones that scared me. Each of these people a personal connect to my story and me to theirs.
The ones that left a positive impact were those I could really look up to and were doing something right. The ones that scared me were ones I saw myself in. As if meeting the ghost of Christmas future.
So many stories, where do I even start? How do I answer anyones questions?
The flight back was easy due to an upgrade provided by a friend. Overnight international business class flight? Yes, please.
The guy sat next to me asking me about my helmet as I asked him about his fly rod.
We swapped stories and shared personal history before drifting off to sleep. For an old retired dentist he was a cool guy and certainly made some ‘right’ choices.
Again reminding myself how fortunate I was to experience such a trip. But now returning to the ‘real world’ it is a new frontier explored only with new eyes.
I don’t have an answer when people ask “what do you do?”. Am I still a sales guy? Am I a motorcycle adventure rider who doesn’t have a motorcycle? Am I am bum? Am I a directionless millennial?
Haven’t found a good answer yet besides that I am just a guy trying to figure it out.
When I look at my friends or older people who are ‘successful’ but have never taken time for themselves, I can’t help but feel bad for them. Are you going to put your job title on your tombstone? No, cause no one cares. Not even you.
Even if you make it to CEO of some big company, who cares. The only respect generated by those under you - who have to respect you, and those who rely on you - who feel neglected by your lack of attention.
You can’t win and it’s not rigged, because the game wasn’t meant to be won.
Thinking back to my old jobs I’ve been lucky enough to have great bosses but can’t say I wanted to be any of them. I’m not sure I have someone in mind who I want to be when I grow up. And that’s ok, I just need to be who that is.
The scenario my friend presented to me before I left still sticks with me. Imagine, being on your deathbed and your grandson asks you to tell him a story, an adventure from your life.
It’s going to hurt if you don’t have any stories. He doesn’t care how hard you worked on that presentation and got it in before the deadline. Or how you spent your two week vacation glued to your phone monitoring an “emergency” back in the office. Cause you don’t care either.
I have heard “I wish had the time” in response to my trip more times than I care to remember. Unfortunately, no one realizes that they are the time maker, it’s all a choice. No one is coming to save you, there is no white knight and there is no magic ticket lottery winnings. You only have you because everyone else is on their own journey.
I can’t put into words my current view on the universe, religion, or god but regardless of whatever beliefs you hold. The maker or whoever is pulling the strings is never going to be impressed with the safe “choices” you made, because you weren’t impressed by them either.
A book I read called The Power of Myth has stuck with me for the duration of the trip. The idea being that mythical tales and religious texts are blueprints for experiences and the lessons are not literal. When applied to real life scenarios, they provide a nice backdrop of choice and outcome if you can look past how the aspects are physically represented. Everyone plays a role.
Without sounding too egocentric the one that has always been in the back of my mind is ‘The Hero’s Journey’. I can fill in the blanks for the exact moments, characters, and memories that fit into each aspect of the cyclical progression.
I am hung up on the last step: Step 12: Return with the Elixir
This is the final stage of the Hero's journey in which he returns home to his Ordinary World a changed man. He will have grown as a person, learned many things, faced many terrible dangers and even death but now looks forward to the start of a new life. His return may bring fresh hope to those he left behind, a direct solution to their problems or perhaps a new perspective for everyone to consider.
The final reward that he obtains may be literal or metaphoric. It could be a cause for celebration, self-realization or an end to strife, but whatever it is it represents three things: change, success and proof of his journey. The return home also signals the need for resolution for the story's other key players. The Hero's doubters will be ostracized, his enemies punished and his allies rewarded. Ultimately the Hero will return to where he started but things will clearly never be the same again.
I don’t seek any person to ostracize expect my own self doubt. And certainly do not consider myself a hero in any circumstance but, I am the protagonist in a story only I can write.
I had a few people along the way reach out and tell me that I inspired their own trip and I impacted their life in some way. It feels good really good and I could tell those people felt good about themselves progressing towards doing something that a previous version of themselves would have called impossible.
Considering the Hero’s Journey, I am not done yet. I have physically returned to the Ordinary World but I need to share what I have learned to whoever will listen.
Slipping into a day dream I thought about a world where one million people quit their jobs and followed that voice and feeling in their gut. A choice that is entirely theirs. With job being defined as the unintentional life. The life that you have found yourself in after decades of the ‘right’ choices.
What if one million people woke up and took control of their lives. What if, one million people made a plan to check on something off their bucket list before they are back to shitting in diapers.
What would that world look like? I’m not sure, but I’d like to know. Seems like a valiant pursuit for all involved.
What if I was the one that got that conversation started? I don’t have the answers of what comes next. But have experienced the universes synchronicities enough to know that life and the universe is asking you to make a choice. Very few answer the call for fear of making a wrong choice. Fortune favors the bold and being bold starts with making a difficult personal decision.
In a recent conversation with an old boss, who has always been elevated in her thinking, shared she was also currently at a crossroad. She did something similar to my trip in the past and is facing it again. She told me to write it. I have the time and money, and she will hire me if it doesn’t work out.
The only difference between a good choice and bad choice is commitment.
Arriving in America it was painfully obvious it was over. No one cared why I was carrying a helmet and no one had the time to understand why. No ones fault, just a new world to explore.
The following week in Denver involved an unreal amount of Chick-fil-a and Amelia helping me get settled in.
Two days after I landed a friend moved and his room opened up in shared house. I had a place to live that was never a possibility previously.
Going back to the east coast I spent time with my family and friends who were home for the holidays. I also got to go to DC to stay in the hotel room that my dad spent innumerable amount of days occupying.
He spent so much time in the hotel and left such an impact on the staff of the hotel that they hung a plaque by his room commemorating his memory. When my mom called to reserve the room they knew exactly who she was and comped our stay.
I saw the plaque during an ayahuasca vision and felt I had made right on my intention from last year to do something special this Christmas. There is no headstone to visit and this plaque fills that void.
While looking at the plaque I thought about what I would say to him about my trip. I could feel him with me for parts like Nicaragua but knew he never left. Leaving knowing that he knew what I was up to and was proud. There wasn’t much left to say.
Part of my plan before leaving was a budget to rebuild my life when I got back. A portion of that was to buy a car. When meeting with a friend he said he would sell me one of his for a fair price. It was cheap and fit the bill. I jumped on it knowing it was a risk and decided to do the two day drive back with Hashbrown. 26 hours and 2000 miles doesn’t seem daunting nowadays.
Early Saturday morning we started west taking a short overnight break in Chicago. The trip was easy but boring and I missed my bike. No issues along the way and arrived during the night on the second day. Breathing a sigh of relief I had made it to Denver.
The following morning leaving to do some chores, about a mile from where I parked the previous night, the car made a series of terrible noises. A few moments later all four wheels seized and I came to a sliding halt on a sheet of ice on the downside of a hill. An issue with the drivetrain had rendered me immobile.
Had to laugh and be thankful I didn’t stop somewhere in Nebraska.
I ended up selling the car for a loss but it was a loss I could sleep with and chalked it up to taking a risk.
While unpacking it quickly felt like I had time traveled. All my old stuff I forgot about was back. Wearing all my old clothes and very quickly I wasn’t living out of a bag. All the belongings I thought I couldn’t live without when I left were back, I couldn’t remember them a few weeks after leaving. The only thing I couldn’t forget were my grey sweatpants and I was happy to have them back.
“So how was it?”
Sends me into a rambling mess of thoughts spilled out of my mouth and onto whoever politely asked. My thoughts screaming between political and personal, fast food and fringe philosophies. I can’t imagine it is received well or makes much sense.
No one can ever know how it was. Even someone who’s done a similar trip wouldn’t know exactly how it was.
I don’t even know how it was. What aspect?
“Good” seems to be the best answer I can muster.
Since I have been back I have met with friends and reconnected with others. There is certainly a new enthusiasm as I talk about my vision for the future and about what I went through.
The million dollar question, How long can I hold onto it though?
Do you remember when you were a kid in a swimming pool and everyone would run in one direction to make a whirlpool? I feel l like the kid running the opposite direction. It is possible to get the water to spin the other direction, but it is going to take a lot of work and you're going to need help.
New potential opportunities have presented themselves that would never have been possibilities. There is no book that provides guidance in this new situation. This is really a going with a gut decision.
I know the right answer, but did I learn enough to confidently explore it?
Place your bets now, let’s see what happens.
Thanks for following along, I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed living it.
