There was a movie from my youth
where a young man with an ailment
had a plan to ride through Europe on a motorcycle.
Who knows?
Maybe this was a way to give himself
something to look forward to, or otherwise,
maybe this was his way of giving himself
something to live for.
His trip was mapped out with pins
that were placed in the map on his wall,
like missions from the mind
or statements of his youthful need to defy death
and live.
Each pin was placed with intention,
which, to him, was the visual proof
that he had the drive to live
regardless of his so-called “impending” death.
This was his way of documenting
his need to live or to be free or, if anything,
to be unrestricted by his ailments
or challenges or the so-called perceived handicap
that plagued him since birth.
The map in his room was his vision statement.
There were extra pins on the young man’s desk,
and each pin was a tiny tool
to add locations or to station his plans,
as if to place an exclamation point
or to create a standard of priority.
God, what a hero . . .
He could add places or change his mind
or switch directions
or choose a different starting point,
but either way,
his aim was to see Europe
from the seat of his motorcycle.
I love this.
And all I can say is that I understand.
I understand the need or the urge
or the desire to ride free
or to be free,
or at least to feel
so free that no ailment can stop me,
nor could anyone or anything prevent me
from going forward.
At the same time,
I do not ride a motorcycle
nor have I ridden one since my accident,
which was somewhere
around the start of summertime in 1987.
No helmet.
A broken collarbone,
and a concussion from when I laned on my head
which, if I think about it,
this might explain so many things about me.
And again, although I do not ride,
I can relate.
I can understand the need to see or feel and touch,
or the need to go and to be,
and to do all that my heart has wished for,
all set, and all planned in the swoop
of one perfect trip.
(God, if only.)
Back to the movie—
The young man passed before his trip ever began,
and on the morning of his discovery,
his mother found him in bed
and upon realization that while his body lay there
his soul was elsewhere,
the Mother took hold of the loose map pins
and pushed them in throughout the map of Europe.
She offered the fact that he was free now;
that he was free to see whatever
or wherever he chose.
Sad . . .
But I love this as well.
And I understand this too.
I have no desire to ride a motorcycle
and, for the moment, I have no plans to see Europe.
However, I have a drive in mind.
I have the desire and the need
and the urge to be away from all the irksome realities
or the troublesome theories around me.
I want to ride off into the sunset,
or drive towards the sunrise
and be totally, completely, and absolutely at ease,
or at peace and unhinged
or disconnected and peacefully uninvolved
with the various dilemmas or the challenges
or the common intrusions
which come with life. And yes,
whether the intrusions are deliberate and harmful
or if they are simply accidental and unintended; still,
the idea of riding off and getting away
or breaking free from the chains that hold me back
is more than something to live for.
But more, this is lifesaving.
I have always had the urge
but now, I am grasping for the courage
so that I can take my chances
and enjoy the feeling from the open road,
or to soak in the atmosphere
that comes while driving and noticing
the quietness of beautiful landscapes
which are on either side of the road.
This is more than a dream to me now.
No, this is more like a mission statement.
However, the last thing I want to do
is leave anything undone or unsaid,
which is why I am here:
to do what needs to be done
and to say what needs to be said.
Now is the time for action.
I want to feel the sun on my face
and the wind in my hair,
which is why I have been practicing my approach
and why I have been growing my hair—
to feel the wind blow . . .
I have been either misled or mistakenly driven
towards a misconception of truths,
which is not to say that my beliefs are not true
or, at least, this is not to say
that my beliefs are no longer true to me.
No,
this is more of a declaration.
This is more like a moment of understanding;
whereas and like moments from my past,
I have come to a new level of awareness.
I have moved to a new level of understanding
and while, yes, I thought my search was found,
I realized something:
My search is only beginning.
Or maybe my quest is only changing,
like a map pin
that was placed somewhere in the South of France;
only now, I realize my intentions have shifted
and thus, so have some of my destinations.
But that’s okay,
I can always circle back now,
if I choose to; however, and for the moment,
no, I think there are other places I need to see.
I was driven by the search of love,
or should I say “my love,”
which is not to say that I no longer believe in love
or that love does not exist,
because love exists—and I know this more now
than ever before; however, love has changed,
and this happened slowly,
but at the same time, I swear,
this happened in a blink, as if to be right before my eyes.
I was in the search for my place, to find where I belong
and with whom,
and with hopes to find my place in the circle
or to find what I sought, my search has changed and thus
my search will no longer include
or be set with a side car
or with the expectation
that someone will be seated next to me
in my special convertible.
No.
My level of consciousness has changed
and hence, my awareness has altered to a new stage,
which means now that my level of understanding
has improved, I understand that my trip
and my search is no longer centered
around the satisfaction of someone else’s soul,
nor is this trip centered around
the discovery of love or true love
nor anything that is outside of me or my reach
but more to the point,
or poignantly,
I understand that time waits for no one . . .
including me.
I have no map or map pins
to place on maps on my wall.
I have no set locations nor mandatory destinations
or plans or places to see.
I have wiped the slate clean,
to start over now.
I have come to understand that the word “alone”
is not a bad word nor is this a curse
and nor should I despise myself
or anyone else for that matter,
nor should I regret
my past nor should I regret
my steps that took me here
because now at least I know where my faults were.
I know where I misspoke
or where I stepped away instead of towards.
At least now,
I know the truth about me, which is fine
because like the young man
who had plans to see the world
from the seat of his motorcycle,
I understand now.
I get it.
I understand that it’s okay to be different
or to deviate from the standard path.
It’s okay to realize that something “wasn’t meant to be,”
or that someone said what they didn’t mean
or meant what they didn’t say.
It’s okay to ride alone or drive alone
or if I am to expose my first plan,
it’s okay to board the train across my country,
alone, and armed with my trusty laptop,
a few books of poetry,
a few ways to make coffee for myself
and a few reasons to disregard some people
or some of my phone calls,
and armed with a new reason
to want to see the world,
exactly as I choose to,
now is the right time to enact my plan,
alone.
But again
the word alone is not a curse,
Not at all . . .
Some people are brave enough to see this.
others are too cowardly or too comfortable in their life
so rather than ride off into the sun
and do what they dream,
they only place pins in a map
to mark their regrets of the things that never did.
I know because I was this person for way too long.
But now,
I don’t want to be that person
ever again.
The Written Addiction 