Thursday, July 17, 2008

On being afraid

I’ve been loosely planning on traveling after college with Tucker, hopefully through the WWOOFing network, but in all the frenzy of the school year I got lazy and stopped looking into the logistics behind actually going through with it. Now that I’ve got some time on my hands I’m back on the net and fervently cruising the destination lists; a long list of hosting families and farms divided into their respective countries. I’m hooked on Spain, and the more I read about their olive farms and Andalusian horse stock, the more I find myself drifting into an imagined world where I ride the trails through hot and dusty forests and stack stones into containment walls. Maybe not glamorous, but what I need, I’m sure. I’d like to get really tan and work outdoors planting and weeding, learning to build, mucking stalls, whatever. I’m so entranced with the idea that sometimes I find it difficult to even contemplate the possibilities for fear that they won’t happen for one reason or the other, or because my heart strings are pulled a little too taut while I dream in front of the computer. Sometimes I wish more than anything that I could be one of those people who just make things happen with little regard for plans, or timelines, or, most importantly money. But no matter how hard I try to become that sort of person with reckless abandon, I find I really just can’t let go of my instinct to have a plan, a backup plan, and an escape route. That’s just my nature and I’ve been forced to accept it. However, acknowledging my weaknesses (though, sometimes, it’s a strength) doesn’t make it any easier to continue into reality and make things happen. And realizing my nature doesn’t mean I can magically change it and allow myself to travel through the world freely and without a care. So I suppose that now I just have to begin the process that never seems to end in my life: letting go, getting over it, convincing myself of my own competence blah blah blah. And then going through with something that I’m really, really scared of- in this case, Spain. Anywhere, really. And learning how to go with the flow, as the Bellinghammers say.

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