Critique of Donald Miller II

Continuation of Reflections on "A Milion Miles in A Thousand Years"

“I forgive you” (153).

Excuse me?

[context: Miller talks here about forgiving his father whom he has not seen in 30 years and who has been largely absent from his life]

Agree or disagree with me, but forgiveness is not something that just happens within a few seconds, in my opinion. Sure, at an earlier point in the book Miller comments that he forgives his father because he does not even really know what to forgive him for. But if he were completely indifferent about his father he would not have taken so much time to find him, nor would this act of looking for him have been such a large challenge.

I don’t know. Maybe for some forgiveness is this easy, just saying “I forgive you” and voila.

For me reading this one simple sentence however was rather upsetting and I thought that it sounded too simple in the context of the rest of the story.

“Part of our selves is spirit” (153).

Yes. Much of ourselves is spirit, soul, aura. Something like that.
“It was good pursuing a girl” (154).

No no no. Why do you have to pursue a girl? Why objectify women in that way? Pursue a relationship, sure. Pursue the love of your life. Pursuing means there is an object to be pursued – women are not objects.

“The more difficult, the better the story” (156).

YES. It’s better, but also harder. But through harder stories you’ll (we will) also grow more.

“If I hadn’t done to Peru, nobody would have died. And if I hadn’t seen my father, the fate of thousands would not have been affected” (157).

Ok. That’s exaggerated thinking. Yes, Miller here is talking about what makes a story epic. But if you are basing everything off of whether the life of other’s would otherwise be in danger or not you are missing an important aspect of life: that it’s about growth, not about all of a sudden doing something glorious that saves life's every day. That really is the material that movies and superhero novels are made of.

I think the question should much rather be how to live a life that inspires the lives of others and impacts others positively? Will my actions today make another person smile?

And sometimes it is just important to realize that you yourself might die—metaphorically speaking—in the absence of an experience like going to Peru and challenging oneself. Because without such experiences we do stay stuck in our routine, in the comfort zone.

Talking about Bob Goff and his wisdom, Miller cites that Bob said “[I don’t think] we should be afraid to embrace whimsy…that nagging idea that life could be magical; it could be special if we were only willing to take a few risks” (167)

First of all, I want to be Bob. He sent out letters to world leaders and asked them for interviews and then said they were always welcome at his house. He makes (unofficial) peace contracts and asks for diplomacy. And I absolutely agree with his words. Let's all embrace whimsy.

“You can either get bitter, or better. I chose to get better. It’s made all the difference,” said one of Donald’s friends (181).

Let’s all get better. That doesn’t mean that it takes more energy and strength than all of us think we have. That doesn’t mean that it’ll just be a walk in the park or that it won’t take time. But it does meant that the alternative is to get bitter, and I really do think that that is true, that one internalizes all the shit that goes on in the world and become cynical and give up hope that there are still good people out there and good moments to be lived.

Becoming better (whether that meant to recover and revive, or simply become a better person, become even more amazing), does not disregard the problems that we face—it simply means not giving in to problems and giving up before the start, giving in and becoming (or staying) passive. Becoming better means to face challenges with courage.

Victor Frankl states that “life, even amid the absurdity of human suffering, still has meaning” (196). I really want to read Frankel’s book. He was a psychologist who survived the holocaust. “Life is a persuade of meaning itself, and … search for meaning provides the basis for a person’s motivation,” writes Frankl, and I agree (196).

“When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are” (206).

Yes that is true, I think. I think that making an effort to stop looking for perfection and, in turn, cherish humanity and uniqueness in everyone you meet is essential to forming a better community.

“The most human of human beings within twenty miles was sitting across from me” (223).

No, no. However “human” the person was in the moment, this statement disregards the humanity of every other person within that twenty-mile-radius. We are all the most human of human beings if we let ourselves be. It might be easier for some to open up and show feelings than for others, but that in itself does not make them less human.

“It wasn’t necessary to win for the story to be great, it was only necessary to sacrifice everything” (231).

Give it your best. Then, mo matter what the outcome might be, there is something you can say; that you have given your honest best. That’s what my mom taught me.

“I know there are biochemical causes for some forms of depressions, but I wish people who struggle against dark thoughts would risk their hoes on living a good story” (247).

While there is a grain of truth to this statement—that it would be great for everyone to take risks to live more meaningful lives, the issue is that people with depression do not have the energy to take such risks, or feel that it doesn’t make a difference, and that it is incredibly hard to break out of such a cycle of thoughts. This makes a statement like the one above meaningless, since it disregards the difficulty of depression.

I was quite unhappy with the end of this book. It was rather uninspiring. It also bothered me that Miller states that he wrote the book in a rush. It makes the (inspiring) things he wrote feel less meaningless and written without meaning. Maybe I am too critical.

What do you think?

Critique of Donald Miller I

Reflections  on “A Million Miles in  A Thousand Years”
[Spoilers for those who haven’t read the book]

This book by Donald Miller was given to me as a thank you for leading a retreat last October, by my mentor and friend, Lauren. At the time, I was busy with school work and had about 100 other things to read, so the book collected dust on my shelf for a few months until I rediscovered it as I was packing up the things in my room to move back to my parents’ house for the few weeks before heading to Europe. The subtitle of the book is “How I learned to live a better story,” and I thought that it might be just the right read for two and a half months of traveling and backpacking with just the bare minimum (in truth, the necessary) of things in my bag.

As I hadn’t read much for my own (novels or short stories) over the past few months, and have formed a habit of annotating most things I read over the years that I have been studying, I felt the need to pick up a pen as I started reading Donald Miller’s book. There were sentences that stuck out to me that I felt needed to be marked, and sentences that I so strongly disagreed with that I felt needed angry comments in the margins.

Here are reflections on the things that provoked me to think further, both out of inspirations and anger:

“We don’t want to be characters in a story because characters have to move and breathe and face conflict with courage. And if life isn’t remarkable, then we don’t have to do any of that; we can be unwilling victims rather than grateful participants” (Miller, 59).

Miller’s thesis revolves around life as a story, with similar patterns and elements. This fraction rather at the beginning of the book stuck out to me because it reminded me of the feeling that life is uncontrollable. I think realizing that we are al agents, no matter how small the actions we take and the change we initiate, is crucial to living a meaningful life. The phrasing that we are otherwise “victims” is, however, odd to me. Victims of what? Of a life without action, of a life that is remarkable? I think, rather than victims (which requires, in my understanding, another actor superior to us), we fall into a trap of passivity we often build ourselves. I want to acknowledge, too, however that I agree with Miller that it is easier to stay passive than act and work towards change.

“The point of life is character transformation” (Miller, 68).

YES! I agree. The point of life is character transformation. However, character transformation can’t give life meaning, I think. Rather, giving life meaning and working with/toward whatever life’s meaning is transforms one’s character.

“…create stability out of natural instability” (69).

Is what we as human beings strive toward, I think. It seems to be in our nature to find balance and patterns.

“But I knew I had to do something. I needed to live a real story with real action” (77)

[context: Miller describes that he spends much time living in daydreams, not doing much with his actual life, that he is living a boring story, so to say.]
I scribbled in the margins, here, that this is “way to simplistic. There is no way that so little thought went into this conclusion.” It bothers me that Miller spends so much time describing – what seem to me to be - rather mundane scenes, and so little time developing or describing thoughts that I perceive to be rather complex like the one above.

The whole chapter “Listen to your writer” was very hard for me to relate to. Miller intends to dissect what I call intuitions, thoughts we sometimes have that seem to come out of the nowhere, that call for us to do something out-of-the-ordinary, something new, something outside of our comfort zone, or thoughts and feelings that we better not do or say something we were inclined to be. While I call these thoughts and feelings intuitions, Miller states that this is “God writing something different” (87). God, according to Miller, is the better writer of all our stories, and, if we listen to Him, our stories will become better. Miller writes that “[he] started obeying” what God wanted him to do (88). This to me stands in contrast to much of what he was saying before. The word obeying carries with it undertones of submission and the lack of individual agency. I personally can not identify or reconcile with such a theology.
I believe that intuitions come from within us, from a place of knowledge that we all possess, but do not access—or have access to—all the time. Knowing, however, to watch out for thoughts or feeling that come from this place, has helped me to make certain decisions. Realizing that what felt right for this summer was spending more time than usual in France and in Germany, and feeling that Germany feels both more and less than home than in the past seven summers that I have not lived there, was certainly an intuition that I had, one that I chose to follow not knowing whether it would lead me into the right direction. I think that is also the difference between what I believe to be true about these intuitions and about Miller’s theology of God’s guiding story: I think that it is impossible to know for sure whether intuitions will lead to right decisions or wrong decisions, because it is impossible to anticipate the future. It is possible to take a guess, and a risk.

Miller goes on to say that “we change over time and our perspectives sharpen with experience,” and that I do agree with. Again, all experiences are part of our transformation as human beings, if we let them be such and take them in as more than passive bystanders.

Interview with a woman about domestic violence in which she says that “people fear change…[it] represents a world of variables that are largely out of [our] control” (101).
I agree. That is why intuitions that push us to change, or even just outside our comfort zones are terrifying, and at the same time necessary.

“I was still scared” (114).
[context: Miller writes about the experience of finding his father who had been absent in his life.]
My comment: You never stop being scared, not until you [face your fear] and most of the time recognize that what you were scared of isn’t actually scary, and that you are/were actually scared of the possibility that it would be.
In my experience, the anticipation of fear most of the time is worse than the object of fear—the anxiety of not knowing.

While analyzing advertisements on TV,Miller remarks that “most Americans aren't living very good stories. It’s not our fault, I don’t think. WE are sucked into it. We are brainwashed, I think” (122)
Again, it’s fascinating to note the passivity in his statement. My scribbles on the margin: or [living a bad story dominated by stuff rather than non-material values] is part of the upbringing in the US, that is so focused on money. Put another way, it’s part of the culture that capitalism has created, but it is also crucial to note that society forms culture. “Brainwashing” as Miller calls it, removes, again, agency and puts the blame in the hands of an anonymous other. Miller goes on to talk about material fulfillment, and I think that the wish for material possession is as much for personal fulfillment as it is about how others perceive you.

Going back to risk-taking, Miller describes how he signed up to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, and says along the way “we should have followed the river” (which is the shorter, easier way) (141). Most of the times, in my experience, the harder path is what makes a journey worth wile, and most of the times an adventure is, in fact, about this journey much more so than the final destination. Maybe it’s the same with life.

Miller ends the beautiful chapter on Machu Picchu with these words: “IN more ways than I can count, my practice story had changed me. I no longer found myself as incapable of hard physical challenges, and I wasn’t watching as much television anymore. I was chasing a girl now, and it was going well” (144).
[context: just three lines before he wrote that the sight of Machu Picchu “made [him] think about the hard lives so many people have had, the sacrifices they’ve endured” (143).]

NO. No, no, no, no, no. How do you go from thinking about the men/women/human beings who carry rocks to build the amazing structures of Machu Picchu to “chasing a girl” and watching less TV? No. First of all that language is offensive to me (call me sensitive if you want), but more importantly it seems dismissive of the grandeur of the ancient structures of monuments like Machu Picchu. Yes, going there is maybe a good start to living a more meaningful life, but maybe next time take a bit more time to reflect on the meaning of such a journey and challenge and end a chapter in a better way. Especially since Miller later writes that even after his trip he wasn’t finished grieving his father. Why not write about grieving his father in Peru?

Happyplace

Le Fu(e)

Evening View 

Domenique

Martin, Domenique, Helene

Fishermen I

Fishermen II

Art-Contemporain

Evening Ritual

Happyplace

Moments of Joy

It's impossible to share every second of this amazing journey, and hard enough to put the best of moments into words.

Moments of Joy

June 10
1. I walked 5km with Emma to end up in a small, beautiful, old village with old houses and narrow streets, tucked in right along the shoreline of the ocean. I almost started to cry, and did tear up a little bit because I all of a sudden felt so at home. Even the stop signs and cross walks looked so much like home. The feeling of peace and arriving somewhere I hadn’t know existed, yet feel so connected hit me like a blow and took me completely by surprise. How can you feel at home somewhere you have never set foot before? I think it wasn’t the village as such that felt at home, but rather the familiarity of the streets and houses and the feeling of the town that stirred up so many emotions within me.

There were also Creperies everywhere, to my delight. I think I really bonded with Emma throughout the 12km walk. Even though I understood maybe 10% of what she told me, I think it made her happy that I had come with.

2. I braided Emma’s hair after returning from the walk. It was adorable – she told me that she used to braid her daughter’s hair (I was wearing my hair in braids that day), and she got really excited when I told her I could braid her hair (shout out to Kenzie, if you are reading this, because without your lesson on outside-in-hair-braiding I would not have done as good of a job  ). Even more joy brought me Helene’s reaction when she saw the braids: Emma was very happy and thanked me, but Helene was close to jumping up and down because she was so happy and even thanked me. I felt really appreciated for an act that -for me- was such a normal thing. It made me realize the importance of appreciating the little things much more. I don’t ever want to forget the way the four of us (Domenique included) stood laughing in the living room. I felt so appreciated for just being me. And felt more joy than I had in a long time for making Emma and Helene so happy.

3. Sophie and I went Kayaking in the Sunset. Seeing the lighthouse in the sun surrounded by clouds that light up the sky in a soft orange, and Sophie's silhouette against this scenery was beautiful. Sophie seemed totally in her element. We went with Emma, and she did a very good job.

4. I went to take pictures of the dusk-light beach and watched the moon rise orange-yellow like the sun, contrasting the dark blue sky. It’s impossible to describe the beauty in words.

June 11
1. I ate a crepe with chocolate and banana. It was so good. Again, no words to describe the taste.

2. I ripped out so much weed from the garden and the physical work of removing unnecessary “things” felt so good.

June 12
1. It is now a joke that I am very afraid of sardines. Sophie wanted me to take out the intestines of the dead fish so that we could eat them for lunch and as I watched her show me how, I felt all the color drain from my face and felt a little bit sick, too. As I cut open a few fish, she must have sensed my extreme discomfort and started laughing. I probably had a look of utter disgust on my face. She told me it was ok, she would do it.

2. I walked to the beach and geared up at the ocean’s beauty.

3. I sat down on a pier at the beach to read a bit and and an elderly couple came up to discuss the pier amount themselves because they disagreed on its purpose. We started talking because I smiled at their argument, and we had a full conversation in French! I was so proud of myself! Even though I couldn’t understand every single word, I could tell that they were entertained by the fact that I was just here chilling and working at a little vacation home. The husband at some point asked if he could pay me to take a picture of them, peaches I was holding my camera, and I must have looked very confused and the couple started laughing whole-heartedly. They were both very funny and it just made me really happy to see them interact (the husband kept wanting to correct the wife, and the wife kept explaining things to him), and to talk to them, too.

4. Kayaking again with Sophie, we strapped on a little rock island and claimed to the top. The sun was pretty low and everything was orange-tinted or a black silhouette  against the light. I teared up again. It’s just all so beautiful and I’ve missed being at peace so much. I feel so connected and yet so in awe of the enormous forces of the sun and the water and the earth compared to which my little self is just a grain of sand.

June 13
1. I went swimming in the ocean. It felt so good to just float in the salty water.

2. I had a conversation with Tato (Sophie’s daughter) about Social Work and Psychology (all very challenging stuff to talk about in a language you’re not even close to fluent in).

3. I sat with the sheep and ma petite chat (the cat) for a very long time. The male sheep is very demanding and started pushing it’s head against my leg each time I stopped petting him.

June 14
1. I made banana bread with Helene and we had so much fun. She found it hilarious that by the time we put the bread into the oven I was covered in flour basically from head to toe and we laughed so much. As I was sweeping the floor after, Sophie came in and smiled at me and seemed very happy that I was happy.

2. The day isn’t over!

Photo Evidence

La Mer

 Arriving in Paris...

 Just a street in Paris

The Kitchen

The Lama

 Finding Peace as the Moon Rises

Mon amour

 The Harbor

Loving the Sun

 She knows... Lying around in the sun is the best

The Harbor

 The ocean

Le Gulvinec

June 9th - The first two days

June 9th 2017

Manoir du Ster

It already seems like I have been here a week, with all that I have done and learned. 

After walking about 6 km with my two backpacks because I went the wrong way twice from the bus stop, I finally arrived at the Manoir du Ster. I hadn’t really thought about what to expect, other than that there would be a Llama and a few more animals. Manoir du Ster is not a farm, and also not exactly a hotel. It is more like a vacation house ten minutes by foot away from the beach, with a beautiful back yard, and animals walking around freely. Even though the Manoir is one big house, it is sectioned off into different smaller areas, and I assume that each vacation “section” has a kitchen and bathrooms. Sophie, who I had emailed briefly with, greeted me at the door. She was on her way to go kayaking in the ocean and just quickly showed me where my room was – across the yard from the main house (section). In my room there are two beds, an old wooden wardrobe, a little sink, and a little desk – more than what I had hoped for. She told me I could eat dinner with les filles and asked if I could cook rice. Sophie speaks English fairly well and can luckily repeat the important things that I don’t understand. The language barrier makes things more difficult than I thought it would. Sure, I remember that the first weeks in Bolivia I wasn’t able to ask where the trash an is because I didn’t know that basurero is the word for trash can (in French, I have learned, it is poubele. I remember that I would mix up the words for money and plate and I thought at first that the word for knife was the word for spoon. And that was ok, it was funny and normal. I guess that is why I was not prepared for the isolating effect that not being able to communicate hardly at all has. After all I spoke better Spanish when I arrived in Santa Cruz than the little French that I have taught and retaught myself over the last few weeks. I thought that I would get by. And I have gotten by fine the past two days, even though it has cost the people I am working with patience. The point is I would like to communicate. I would like to both understand conversations and then be able to express myself. I am not sure how well I will be able to do those things after the next three weeks, but I will for sure understand and maybe talk a bit better than I do now. 

Birds in the Kitchen

Yesterday morning, right after getting up, Sophie asked me to clean out the bird cages above the kitchen. Imagine this: The kitchen is a rather open space with a family high ceiling and lots of light. Able one side of the kitchen is a second-floor-platform upon which five or six birdcages  stand. A net covers the balcony between this platform in the kitchen, originally intended that the birds – some of which fly around the space – do not come down into the kitchen. There is a large hole in the net, though, so that there are usually five parokees and a parrot flying around in the kitchen. It is fascinating to watch. My new friend, Elene, an elderly woman with a slight mental disability, taught me the names of all the birds right when I arrived, and is also helping me learn the names of kitchen utensils and other objects. She is such a kind lady and has such a positive energy about her that one can’t help but smile and be happy and positive in her company, too. My other tasks of the yesterday involved more cleaning and cooking, so that by the end of the day I was completely exhausted. I went to the beach for a little bit and sat there watching the waves. It was cloudy though, and got quite chilly towards the later evening. 

Une cartouche

When I got back from the beach, we welcomed a new guest to the hostel. Madame Domenique is an elderly lady from somewhere close to Paris, who will be staying at the Manoir for two weeks. I didn't understand much of what she was telling me, just that she has diabetes. I helped her unpack her things and arranged them in he closet for her, because that would have been very exhausting for her. I wish that I could have understood her better and had been able to reply.

When I was done arranging everything I found one last little item, a small pouch in Domenique’s suitcase. I didn’t know what it was so I asked her how you call it in French. She told me that it is une cartouche, a little sowing kit. She told me that I could have it. I didn’t know how to thank her other than saying merci beaucoup many times. This was my moment of sunshine this day.

When we were sitting with Elene in the living room, she told Elene (and me) that her husband had passed away two years ago. Elene did not really respond much, other than changing the topic to something happy, because Domenique was a bit upset. I so much wanted to comfort her and just didn’t know how. I really like Domenique and hope that we can grow a bit closer over the next two weeks. 

Memories of Arterias Urbanas

I swept and rearranged the Patio today, after getting up a bit earlier than yesterday (which is good because I’m also not as tired and exhausted today!). Cleaning up the concrete floor outside reminded me of Arterias in Santa Cruz, and of the many many times I swept the floor in the Taller, mostly without any success. It was nice to reminisce while doing the mindless work of sweeping. Thinking about Bolivia now—there are also five murals on the walls of the Manoir, painted by a Latin American Artist who has also painted murals in Bolivia and Chile and I believe Venezuela. Who would have known that these two places connect so much? The murals are beautiful, full of references to anti gene-mutilation and capitalism, but also to Latin American culture. 

Le Fac et Le Gateau Kayakese 

After lunch today I was lucky to go kayaking in the ocean with Sophie. Without doubt, that little trip has been my favorite of the entire journey so far. Even though the kayak was extremely hard to Cary to the beach, the backpain was worth it once we were in the water and surrounded by nothing but sunshine and blistering water. We paddled until we got to a group of stones quite a ways off the shore. The blue water contrasted the orange water plants, ant the white couldn't reflected in the ocean. It was beautiful. All of a sudden Sophie pointed out a young seal (Fac) to me. The young seal recognized her and came up to the kayak to caress her feet. It was beautiful to watch. Sophie went swimming with the seal, and her normally rather stern face lit up with joy. As the seal swam up to the kayak again, I reached my hand into the water and got to pet its head. 

Before making our way back, we had some tea and a bit of banana bread (gateau) that Elene and I had made the day before. It was delicious. 

I am so grateful to be here. Moments like sitting in the sun in from of my room and seeing young seals make up for all the moments of loneliness

June 7th - Memories on a train ride

June 7th, 16:01, TGV Paris  Quimper
Moments:
I met a Homeland Security officer on the plane who had traveled all across the US and told me about all the cities he had visited and from where to where he had driven, and that he was always very scared of going up mountains. He was originally from France and we talked in French for a little bit He said that I would be fine in France and would be able to get by. That made me feel proud. He also asked me if I wanted to work with homeland security and I didn't know what to say.

The bus driver from the airport to Paris was very kind, very smiley.

I found a playground close to the train station where I took a little time to decide what to do with the hour that I had left until my train to Quimper left.

I walked around the Gare Montparnasse and found a cemetery and a little café. The waiter was also very nice and was singing as he brought out my café au crème. He waved me goodbye.

I couldn’t figure out where my train left because the train platforms are only announced 20 minutes before each train leaves. Very confusing. First challenge successfully figured out. There was a fascinating beauty in the turning of the letters on the black timetable, each little white letter changing like a leaf twisting and spinning in the wind.

I watched a family with two kids interact; they were sitting opposite of me on the train. The older brother, maybe two and a half, wiped the younger brother’s mouth, gentile, caressingly. The older brother also thought that the baguette with salami was a croissant at first, and next a sandwich with cheese.

June 6th - To Do List

June 6th 2017
NYC airport, 6:25pm
To do list for the next few weeks:
- Find peace in silence; stop replacing the absence of sounds with fillers and start listening to the present
- Find fulfillment in my own company; be conscious of feelings, thoughts, state of being. I will not run away from spending time on my own
- Find one beautiful thing a day and take conscious notice of it
- Be open to new experiences
- Find the sun
- Know that not everything will be perfect and that that is ok
- Know that I am not perfect and but can and will do my best and learn from past experiences
- Both the good and the bad moments are lessons
- It is ok to be lonely at times. That will be part of this adventure, too.
- Remember that I am loved – and find self love within this adventure
- Remember that I am doing this for myself; that this is a big step and I will grow as a result of pushing myself outside my comfort zone
- Remember that even if my greatest fear is to be lonely and cut off from others, and alone, the only way to overcome this fear is by putting myself on the edge of such a situation
- This is a part of transformation
- Remember that I am strong and I am ready for this
Challenges:
- Having limited resources
      - Connections to people
      - Ability to communicate
              - Possessions
- Not knowing at all what to expect
- Feeling out of place and lonely

I myself

My bags are packed

And I feel that I am taking 

way too much

When the most important item 

I am taking along on this journey

am I myself.

I will arrive and feel 

a bit lost

 and perhaps like I don't belong,

but I know more than anything that

even when I feel like I belong nowhere

I have the gift of finding a home 

everywhere.

Fear

June 4th 1:38 AM

Fear. 

Of the Unknown, of the dark  shadows underneath, 

those that might come up to the surface,

those that might take me in my sleep, 

those that lure behind corners and

wait for just the right time

to shake me up, make me loose my equilibrium.

Fear.

To fall and break my back,

to be too weak to get up again,

to lose my voice and have no strength

to call out and stand my ground,

to loose myself in the midst of too many

pieces that could be and become

me. 

Fear.

Of making mistakes and landing 

in a spiral of uncontrollable events

Fear of myself;

because maybe the shadows aren’t shadows after all,

but rather the projections of my mind,

the maybe’s and but’s and possibly’s.

The idea that there might be something there.

The idea that I might be weak.

That in the end the past is quicker than the future

and the memories darker than the light of the present.

Fear, 

that facing myself is the scariest thing I have done, 

Fear,

that even after facing myself part of myself will still be dead, 

Fear,

that the dark will always be pitch black,

Fear,

that I will remain inside the comfortable circle I have drawn

Fear,

that I will never know who I am.

On the Verge of Something New

In just a few days I will be on a plane off to a new adventure, on the way to a place I have never been before. Yes, this place is just hours away from my home country, but nevertheless the taste of the unknown tingles in the back of my throat, the adrenalin makes my stomach pull together and my intestines twist and turn once in a while. In a way this is like stage fright - the fear of being seen and heard by a mass of people that not only represents a judging eye, but also represents the self - after all, whom am I testing but myself? This trip is about the adventure, of course it is. Only recently I was told that I am an adrenalin junky because I seek out opportunities but I think that it's actually quite the opposite: I am scared as shit of new things and yet I push myself outside of my comfort zone because I know that outside of the comfortable lies much of what makes life worth living.

Going to France by myself to help out at a hostage/organic farm without knowing French or anyone in the area is very much outside of my comfort zone. But I'm ready for the adventure, I'm excited to expand muy horizon and become more rooted in who I am as a person.