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Posts tagged ‘rest’

City of Kings

The_past_days of Bound South have felt a little indulgent.  We’re used to the grit and sweat and stress of life on the road.  Arriving in Lima, a connection with a Dartmouth classmate and her coworkers at an international public health NGO led to a restful weekend in the capital of Peru, a sprawling “City of Kings” set above sandy ocean cliffs and an endless coastal desert.  Jonathan, a native Coloradoan-20-something, described Lima as “Quito’s bigger, dirtier, older brother.”  Seeing as how this same description fit me rather well, I figured I’d get along well with Lima.  We enjoyed the rare company of a number of American-volunteer-20-somethings, laughed about 12-hours-a-day, and explored Lima’s legendary gastronomy, colonial center, and superb laundry services.  We danced swing in a Cuban bar, ate ceviche, ate our first good ice cream since the States and watched the sun set over Miraflores.  We made some new friends who we are determined to see again in the States someday.  Sometimes, indulgence isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Our fantastic hosts with their fantastic pancakes in Lima.

Gliding above Miraflores in Lima.

Highway below the cliffs of Miraflores.

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Saddle Up, Cowboy

Inextricability is frequently misunderstood in life.  Contrasted with the wandering of the autonomous, inextricable lives are obviously entangled with notions of purpose, community, and continuity.  Many twenty-somethings fear the specter of commitment, perhaps not out of loathing for these principles but out of fear for frequent separations.  Yet the inextricable life is inevitable.  Life is an election that you cannot stay home from because you vote with your feet.  We carry necessary anchors with us through life and our bodies grow stronger from the movement.

Beautiful Highway 1.

Minimalism is like moving those anchors, not cutting their ropes.  Humanity drops anchor in wealth, homes, cars, relationships, and careers to name a few things.  There is an important dual lesson in all of this: the first is that we have a choice in where we anchor ourselves.  The second is that we have no choice but to choose.  I remember selling my car in Anchorage three months ago before we began riding our bicycles north to Denali.  That sudden liquidation of my trans-continental transportation left me feeling liberated and proud.  Do not underestimate how liberating minimalism can be!  But months later, the personal anchor of my beloved Honda has been wholly transferred onto the rack of my Surly Troll.  I covet and adore it with the same intensity.  Don’t fool yourself by thinking that you can live anchor-free; take it from three guys with nothing but three bags and a bicycle.  We carefully measure the inextricability of our lives by bicycle, always critically self-aware of our perceived necessities – whether they be your only comfy pullover or the heaping bowl of oatmeal we delight in every morning.  Minimalism forces you to confront and better appreciate your anchors of necessity.

Cool California coast.

Time compels us forward and bids us southward, away from these past days with family in the Bay Area.  Our cause calls us to our fundraising and other personal goals for this journey.  Inextricability is a daily rhythm that binds us once more to a road going south from San Francisco.

Reveling in the Redwoods.