Our friends left some books here the other day for us to peruse. I looked at a few of them and one of them was about a lady who traveled through an old city and decided to buy a house, repair, renovate and restore that house by hand using only skilled local handcraftsmen. It made me realize, rather made me think, of what the goal of life is. I mean, I would I be content to live in Jackson, MS for the rest of my days? I yearn to explore, to experience, to study. But, when will it be enough?
I suppose the last time I really visited these thoughts and feelings, feelings that I cannot really even describe, was when I was in Oaxaca, Mexico. We stayed with in a couple’s guest home. One evening we got to eat dinner with them, and we found out that they met in Columbia. She was an American and he was a German. They fell in love, married and adopted two unrelated Columbian orphans, a boy and girl. We met them nearly fifteen years later. They were discussing retiring and moving to Germany, and hoping that their children would move to Germany for college. Assuming that they would fall in love in college, decide to get married and assumedly make a life for themselves in Germany. I was thinking, why? Why not live in the good ole US of A? It really bothered me. It stilld does in one sense.
As I am writing this, I am sitting a cool tile floor of an apartment that sits upon the coast of the mediteranean sea. I gaze out upon a city, unlike anything to be seen the good ole US of A, out of a wide open window with cool breeze blowing over me. I went up to the roof this morning to fetch my clothes off of the clothes line, since there is no dryer handy. You look out and the fog is mostly lifted off of the little bay below me. I wonder how many have a view similair to this over the course of time?
This city is older than my entire country. The Greeks, Romans, Carthageneans, Arabians, Spanish, French? As much as I enjoy this place, I know my stay will ultimately be short. I do not know if I wish it could be longer. I have obligations back home in the States. I must pay my debts. In order to pay my debts, I must work. In order to work, I have to run advertisement, hope that my reputation spreads by word of mouth.
At home, I feel like I need to get rid of my stuff. I recently realized that I have over sixty dvds. Why? I do not need them, nor want them anymore. I have had a bowflex sport for several years now, why do I need this hulking piece of equipment? I have too much stuff. If I am to travel as I do, I need to have fewer things. Afterall, they are unimportant. I do not need stuff to establish my value in society. I am content to live in a small room at the back of a house, with four or five other, younger guys. I would be happy with even less. I would love to live in someone’s back room, or over there garage, or some such something.
I am becoming more and more convinced of my foolish ways. I spent a hundred-twenty-five dollars on a pair of boots. I have never spent so much on a single item of clothing in my adult life. I felt very good about it. I became very dissatisfied with my cheap, Wal-Mart boots when I was in Sudan. So, I got back and charged these to a credit card, and went off to Southeast Europe for a month. Got back, and just loved the things even more. Very comfortable, steel toe, slip resistant, inch and half thick sole, I wore these things to work all day, then even wore them even on Sundays. Got to where I am now and work for three days. And the darn things break. Water seeped right into the bottom of my boot, leaving my feet soaking wet and miserable – because, it is a lot of walking working on the side of a mountian, building a community center for local women. I got to take them to a cobbler here, and he sewed them together again for me, for less than a dollar.
I don’t need stuff. I need purpose. My current life is constantly trying to find work, run my company, pay my bills and look for the next opportunity to get out of the country. Hardly can I ever afford it, I don’t understand how everything came together for this trip – or why it did. Who am I to be so blessed with such generousity? I have screwed up my fincances for two or three years now, and only now am realizing that fact and am still trying to comprehend the extant of it and how to get out of it.
A simple life, amazing friends, a suitcase, backpack, briefcase and purpose. A good goal to strive for.
