Ten months ago, I set out on journey. I was not much younger, but I was much younger. California had always been a dream, and still is. I had fair faith in my self, practically none, yet subconsciously all, in God and I had yet to make up my mind about the rest of the world. As I reflect, I'm sitting in back corner of the upper level of my university’s library, disrupting the silence with my sporadic bursts of typing and wondering what exactly it is that I've learned since I got on that plane to San Diego.
Since leaving the road, and Invisible Children behind, I tried a dozen times to blog about my experiences. I attempted to convey what I thought I remembered with such an exquisite awareness of my own inaccurate projections that I felt it better to say nothing and direct the interested to the under-descriptive lies that are photographs. So now I'm going to finally try and explain my thoughts. If you're confused by the end, or feel like you just learned something but aren't quite sure what it is, then I've explained myself well. But I'll warn you, if you we're to have asked me a week ago, these thoughts would be very different, and if you ask me tomorrow, likewise.
To put it as vaguely simple as possible, I have grown up a lot. “Growing up" is an odd and relative term with such beautiful imperfection, like people, that it is usefully descriptive only when when you want to convey positive inner-growth without explanation. So,for the sake of description, I'll elaborate... I have been cursed with the confusion that accompanies grand awareness. Instilled with both the confidence and fear attached to the realization of ones own potential. Blessed with the magical memories of dreams I never knew were dreams until they came true. I have assured a confidence in the acceptance of insecurity and imperfection, of both myself and others. I have fallen in love with the human struggle.
On the road, each experience opened up new ways to think about the world, like learning a new language, or new adjectives. Each day held a unique description of life on earth- details previously unnoticed became the capitals of my thought world, reserving all previously central descriptions to peripheral wanderings in the dim lit caverns of reflection.
Somewhere along this sustained mental shiftiness, I stumbled upon the one of those forgotten truths, better than a 20 in the laundry, that questions are not unlike answers in their ability to direct a man's path. Answers provide steps and goals, but questions provide only a strong inclination towards what are general and sometimes unspecific directions. For me, questions have always been the driving force, from the easily tested wonders, such as, "Can I land a flip off that?" to the questions I realistically never expect any concrete answers to, like, “Who or what is God?" It can seem a futile wandering at face value, the pursuit of questions with incomprehensible answers. But I do it more for it’s own sake, hoping to learn something unexpected and hidden along the way, as I do, even if all I learn is the limit to human understanding.
It's makes for a very intense thought life, rivaled only by dreams and the recovery from decisions made on a lack of sleep.
And now, as my question-led path takes me where I'd never thought I'd end up, deep in the heart of Atlanta for at least the next two years, I’m as confused and content as I’ll ever be. I also forgot to explain anything about my experience at Invisible Children or much of what I learned. Such is life. Things rarely turn out how you thought they might.
That
is the struggle,
and that
is the thrill.
Love it.
Thanks for listening,
Stuy
