The Gist

So I guess I'll shake this thing off now when I see fit.

Tonight I started to make a list of the "accomplishments" I've completed while on holiday in the hopes that when the details begin to slip my mind I will know where to find them. I assumed that once this list had been completed (it ranges from those of grandeur all the way down) I'd have a fairly descriptive view of my long road home to the US. This, however, was not the case a'tall. Getting hung up on the dirty details would be missing the wood for the trees. I won't include the list - partly to avoid embarrassment - but just assume it follows an Indiana Jones'ish itinerary, minus the Nazi's.

*Quick note! If this sounds too indulgent (your cue to stop reading), you can blame my out-there Murakami kick of late (currently his running memoirs). Though I guess you'd appropriately just blame me; at least now you know the reasoning.

This list of notes, my "accomplishments", may be neat details but only I know the full story. Taken separately, they relate to each other as much as blue does to red and fail to convey the big picture. The true accomplishment, above everything, is growth. They (details) may contribute to but don't constitute that growth. The fuzzy stuff that happened in between the respective bullet points was equally important, if not more, as the spotlight items.

My trip is a total workout; mind, spirit and body (lots and lots and lots of walking), but I can not describe the strength that I feel pouring into me every day. Lots, but not all, relates to self reliance.

Of course, this strength isn't a humanitarian cure-all; nothing is. But, it, travel, is inside of me and it runs through every part. Surging and strong, like a spotlight that is connected to my center and shines on every inch. This light scrubs away weakness, bitterness and ignorance. It finds the faults I didn't know I had - realizations that can be a humbling experience - before it attempts to clean the blemishes and leave them anew.

What I might be most grateful for is that the spotlight illuminates the things I hold dear too; who & what I truly love. This process has stripped down the walls and has been like a peek at the foundations of a house; what makes the Temple of Evan stand.

I realize in hindsight that Indy without the Nazi's might not make for a very compelling story after all. I also realize that if I'm going to refer to myself in the third person I'm going to need cooler coinage than the Temple of Evan.

Easy-E Out