For as long as I can remember (which is a much better way of saying, ‘for the last couple of weeks’) I have always believed that you shouldn’t run away from anything. That is not to say, you shouldn’t run; running is probably priority one in a number of scenarios (fire; tiger escape from zoo; free cheesecake). You should never run away from anything. Everywhere you run should be towards something instead, even on days when it seems like you’re heading right back where you started.
And we run. We are always running – from the second we open our eyes in the morning to the very moment they close again at the end of the day. Sometimes the only way to take a pause (perhaps rather counterintuitively) is to pack a bag and escape a while.
Every journey starts with a single step. If anyone else were to make a journey they would have probably considered the first step more than a little carefully, and pondered over what the first single step should be. I, however, can’t remember exactly which single step I made was the first one, the one that led me to the plane I’m currently sat on (yes, at the time this is published, I am on a steel bird about 30,000 feet in the air). It isn’t that I haven’t thought through exactly what I’m doing here, rather, I’ve thought rather too much about it. So much, in fact, that I never really thought I’d get here at all. So I sat and considered until my mind had to make a pit-stop from the racing it was doing.
Imagine a toddler, on a picnic blanket looking up and around at everything going on around them having nowhere particular to go, but knows full well that they are not sure they want to be where they currently are. The toddler does not really consider the step, and definitely doesn’t consider the route, but, with great effort albeit without much eloquence, they pick themselves up and toddle. Not one step, but several uneven lurching steps with no ideal destination. Probably in search of cake.
Perhaps, a better analogy is the drunk student ejected from their usual haunt and is keen to find another place to wind away the hours. Spoilt for choice, and yet with no focus on where to end up…and far far too early to call it a night. One step forward; three to the side; a twist and shuffle – something more closely resembling a dance notation than a plan. But even dance notation has a clear and unambiguous meaning, despite not being clear to everyone. Perhaps not even to the drunken student making the moves.
A drunk toddler dancing unsteadily into the dark night towards a night club which may or may not have cake. That is probably the easiest way of describing how I have come to be where I am now. The hard work has been done already; from this point, all encounters are down to chance, despite being masked as meticulous detail.
So I’m going on an adventure. I have little, if any, hopes and expectations, which will either be the making or the breaking of this mini-tour. It is, by no means, a grand expedition but a fun one nevertheless. My chief weapon is fun…and peacefulness. My two weapons are fun and peacefulness…and the unexplored….
It has had its moments, but I’ll be temporarily putting down the pen which has written the zombie-horror that has been 2016. Instead, I’m running head first towards a blank page I intend to fill using a set of brightly coloured felt tips (or anything that can produce a vivid, abstract contrast to what has come before).
Onward to peace and relaxation
Today’s reading:
Easyjet Safety Card.
Playlist for today:
Bo Burnham – Left Brain, Right Brain. The man manages both thought-provoking and comical. Plus, I’m deciding which side of the brain I need to switch off… probably both. (Note he can be quite colourful in how he speaks…)
Within Temptation – And We Run. I will be arriving in Holland in about an hour from now; the home of this band. In a world where many opinions are stated as facts: Symphonic Metal is up there as one of the best genres of music.
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