greyhound bus thoughts

Right now, as the seasons change in Australia, the sun crawls North. So, now no longer from my ’83 bus, I crawl on the Greyhound. A slower, smellier ride than the girl Roxanne, but damn, it was a good ride. Windows down, music streaming, silent introspections interrupted by howls, cheeky remarks and laughter. Epiphanies - we always thought they were. I’m beginning to think that really, we were just growing up.

In the shire of Byron Bay, on the cusp of seasons, as summer faded through fall into winter. An autumn much different than home. Void of pumpkin spice and sweaters, crisp campus walks and rusting trees. Instead it just got cold. Water stayed warm, but days got shorter, the sun rose later. Nights got brisk, as did the mornings. The seasons were changing. Just like the birds and whales get their calling to migrate North away from the cold, we do the same. Under the roof of our van, the shelter of the sky. The Australia shield is a very good one. I have come to trust it a lot. Maybe too much. But so far, nothing has done me harm. Really, it hasn’t done me anything but good — Australia. Not to say there weren’t any close calls or swift escapes. But when you dive this deep, planting yourself just a small spec of human along the coast of Australia, you are bound to find adventure. Bound to see its vastness and feel very small. Bound to meet people who do good — who know only how to do good. Bound to distrust some people, but distill an overall faith in humanity. See the cycles, the systems, the links that connect people and things in the universe together, then ricochet back into our lives, only to show us something. That life is strange? And unpredictable? And very much alive. It acts in ways you wouldn’t expect. It surprises, shocks, gives and heals. It certainly listens and watches, and acts accordingly. Not that there aren’t things that make it unexplainable. The tragedy, the hurt, the illness of disease. But that, I guess, is what makes it life. A mystery all, really.  Maybe that is why, it seems, all I can endeavor to do right now is find my own truths. About this life, about this universe. I may be gullible but I’m not easily convinced. I need to see to believe. Then I’ll make my own decision.

Right now the more I see, the less I feel I know. The smaller and younger I feel, but during certain moments that come in glimpses, I see myself in a situation that I would not know how to hell to handle a half year ago. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Now, I would at least have a first step, followed by about five, and conspiring some A, B and C plans. Really, life’s just about how we maneuver through the game. What we do with the wild cards and the walks. It all happens with a change of the system. Destruction of my system. And for 22 years what I had known it to be. Then the restructuring — go my own system — building it back up in a way that is suitable for my needs and my growth as an individual. More breaking and creating, tossing and reforming  endless new systems all the while. For me, it all can be broken down into a pretty simple understanding: It all comes down to the need for change, adaptability, and a complete, relentless desire for freedom.

June 3rd, 2013
Greyhound Bus
Townsville —> Cairns