It’s three days after Christmas. I had this weird feeling leading up to the holiday that every subsequent day or at least the few that trailed behind it into the three more months of winter would be darker somehow. Less pronounced maybe.
But Christmas was a day like any other and these last three days have been the same, simply days. The same early mornings where the only desire upon waking up is the two cigarettes that have always started out the day. Then the coffee and the warm bagel with cream cheese and another cigarette, then a period of about an hour where I lay on my couch in front of the same early morning television and fall in and out of bouts of small sleep waiting for the sun to shine through the windows and mark the walls of my apartment with lines of light that pour through the blinds.
I find myself thinking on the coming year as this one draws to a close and I remember the worry I rubbed into my eyes over the last six months about finding a paying writing job and I just know I don’t want to work myself up into that kind of stress anymore.
For the longest time I held onto the prayer that I would be making a living where I could buy a house in the mountains but looking at where I am now that seems almost an impossibility with what I have at the moment so I remember that goal.
I think on it and I realize that at this time and place It’s not something I need.
I’m comfortable right now and that’s about the best I can hope for.
I don’t want to put undue pressure on a psyche that thrives in peace and so I ask only for peace in this upcoming year. Peace of mind, peace of spirit. I don’t want to be restless.
I saw “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” last night and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t spark something in me I haven’t thought about in years, that thing being the enormity of the world outside my apartment window.
In the movie, Walter takes off on a spur of the moment trip to Greenland and wherever else the breadcrumbs lead to find his friend and the missing negative that supposed to grace the cover of the last issue of Life Magazine.
As I was sitting there in the theater I couldn’t help but think, what’s to stop me from getting on a plane to some far off track of wilderness? I could get on a plane to Greenland right now and I could step out and look around and just walk, a camera around my neck and the constraints of a stagnant life far behind me. I could walk and take pictures and I could be happy knowing that there was nothing in my schedule except to disappear and come back a rugged man, with a life lived on the road, with a notion of the vastness of it all and the notion that life isn’t in a career where success may or may not come but in a wealth of experience and stories and growth that come only with abandoning the idea of stability for a true, one-of-a-kind experience.
The idea of sitting on a mountaintop in ungoverned Afghanistan with the snow lightly falling taking pictures of snow leopards is a special kind of heaven for me to imagine.
The idea of working for the pleasure of capturing a moment was cemented in me as I lay in bed half the night thinking of how I could do it.
Sufficing everything down to one point though, I decided I’m going to enjoy what I do whether it’s taking photos or writing and I’m not going to worry about money or a career or being recognized or any of that superfluous shit because that stuff never lasts anyway.
I’m going to find my peace and live in it. I’m going to wake up every morning with the possibility that it could end at any time and I’m going to enjoy the days I live on this earth.
Happy New Year.