It began as a distant rumbling. As if tumbling down some rabbit hole, yet unlike Alice’s role, in this tale it was to a familiar feeling. The type experienced in past left reeling. On his knees in the pitch black darkness pushing against the ceiling, seething, he knew he had to make a change. It’s strange how quickly one’s mind can alter. Stuck in a rut yet not even the slightest of falter, it was decided. This was to be the newest beginning of his latest tomorrow.

Step two. Decisions are great, but then you’re faced with the painstaking notion of having to wait. Great. But at least he could start to put things in motion. Start the commotion brought on by inspired notion. This intense response to emotion having remembered his devotion to the taste of this potion. Unspoken, he already knew the ending to this story. Two swoops and a pull, he set off in search of glory. But this is not some hocus pocus, instead an osmosis focus, emotions and ideas like a swarm of locusts building larger. He could not drag this burden any farther. He simply had to move onward, forward.

Now the only thing standing in his way, a continent to traverse. And thus began The Drive, in reverse. An adventure in the adverse. Smoke, weather, no wildlife, a full car, broken A/C, bottom out, health scare…maybe a curse? No need to be terse, it certainly wasn’t the worst and they eventually burst into the East. Feast after feast they made up for the long trip. But before they slipped into a mode too comfortable, eyes were set to tomorrow, to leave behind a world so steeped in sorrow. With echos of many asking the proverbial ‘why?’, they did the only thing they wanted to. They took to the sky…

He stood on the edge of a cliff to eternity. Looking out across infinity, the horizon appeared out of focus. Peering down through the valley his path was clear, yet his purpose upon destination was anything but. With this step forward, would he fall into the oblivion of regret or glide gracefully towards uncertain possibility. As a soft breeze brazenly approached he closed his eyes. Taking a deep, cleansing breath the sun lightly brushed against his face. Slowly the corners of his mouth curl into the answer he knew all along. With the weight of the world suddenly missing his eyes opened as he appeared in free fall, gravity drawing him forwards, his burdens dissolving in weightlessness. With every inch, the horizon slowly came into focus.

Began had he on the next stage of his life’s journey. Hours and miles past in solitary confinement. Nature as much a soundtrack for his adventure as the speakers and his subconscious. Unknowingly he would voyage through every emotion of Mother Nature. Excitement stifled by the daunting land that lay ahead, he forced himself to appreciate all that appeared through the looking glass. His destination was an inevitability, therefore it was in the journey itself where he would instill these memories. Memories of not only the completion of patriotic adventure, nor of world-renowned natural beauty, but of intense introspection discovered through the monotonous task of painstaking automatic driving. Hour after hour, as if a days work was to steep ones subconscious in contemplation. Every swerve in the road having the potential for visual and internal discovery. His eyes had contentedly found a suitable companion for his soul.

Rain, hail, snow, fog, clouds, lightning and sunshine. An array of condition fit for an annual weather report discovered in the simple month of a Canadian May. Each inclement condition attempting to steer him from his path. The rain drop blurring his vision; the gust of wind pushing him backwards; the snow sliding him from course; the fog patch erasing his future; the lightning bolt inciting fear. The road delivering the message that many a naysayer, many a doubter, many a societal pressure would have him believe. But it is within this moment when ones true self is staring at his own reflection. When upon this glance into the mirror, into eternity, he must decide for himself where his path will lead. When this rain dries, when this wind eases, when this snow clears, when this fog dissipates, when the lightning truly strikes; which direction will you be facing? Did you turn back for safety? Or did you journey head on and emerge with the scrapes and bruises of self-realization?

Our noble traveler emerged with a renowned sense of perspective. With every kilometer serving as a reminder for the reasons of why he passed his last. Every bit forward was not a movement from what was behind, but reaching closer to whatever was to be ahead. This collection of hours spent alone was his breath of fresh air. This time alone in transition. No anchors from his past weighing him down as he desperately reaches towards tomorrow. No future circumstance waiting with assuring open arms. Instead a state of presence that existed only in its simplicity. No truth other than what his eyes could see, his ears could hear and his heart could feel. This time alone was as much an assurance of his path as it was a bow on his past. And with this final understanding putting his soul at ease he was prepared for his future. He was excited for the next bend in the road. He was prepared for the next storm, the next patch of ice, the ominous clouds on the horizon. As the ocean grew larger the clouds began to clear. The sun was finally coming out.

He awoke from a dreamless sleep.  Restless and weary, unknown was the time that had past. Found was he in a windowless room.  Walls barren, a dark and damp space filled with dulled memories.  Once vibrant colours greyed out by the endless marauder of time. He sat gasping for air, the room closing in on itself.  Palms pressed to cold walls, desperately pressing against impossible pressures inescapable. Muscles tensed, beads of sweat dripping down his face. A scream in refusal of this stifled existence was met with a burst of strength to finally push back. With all his might he pushed until a sudden crack in the foundations of this immense weight.  A stream of light bursting through to reveal a delicate sunlight against his heaving chest. He crawled desperately across the floor towards this new opening and felt a rush of fresh air, met with a cleansing deep breath.  One eye able to peak through, his vision finally became clear. There, beyond this box, was a road.  An endless perspective of pavement, grass and a horizon.  There, in the distance, was unmistakable. No need for a compass his direction was clear.  There, existing in permanent majestic drama, were mountains.

Originally Posted February 21, 2014

Part 1

The sun dances across a barren southern landscape.  The sea shimmers flickering diamonds as an invitation to a watery wealth of relaxation.  Palm trees sway in tender warmth.  Amongst this paradise the soft light discovers the simplicity of a man, sitting alone at a desolate train station, existing in this moment of tranquility.  Travel encompassed in a moment.  Eyes closed, he breathes in this quietude.  The sound of a distant whistle breaks the silence.  A subtle rattling of rails.  Eyes open, the swinging of a door the final obstacle of a long journey overcome.  His comrade had arrived.  Friends again reunited in foreign land to write a new chapter in their storied friendship.  Yet never had they encountered an adventure as epic as what was to follow.

Originally Posted November 25, 2013

Solitude left in the wake of September.  Onwards to an October for the ages.  A chance encounter setting the stage for an unforgettable event; a red mark in any traveler’s calendar.  But the flighty mistress of travel would not allow these memories to be simply experienced. Nein.  They would have to be earned.