Culture shock

The overwhelming desire to daydream inundated my bicycle ride today. There was a bizarre light on the mountains and fields in Chilliwack. It was a combination of imminent dusk and looming black rain clouds. I cannot believe the shimmering light that poured over the wet, green fields while I pedaled, chiding myself for not having at a camera to capture it with. Who knew a trip to the library could be so terribly enlightening without the effort of reading a word?

Last week, an excellent revelation unraveled before me. I have pondered how to approach the topic of my latest discovery, though unfortunately my thoughts are not yet completely formed. I will be certain to divulge it to you once I get a better grasp on the entirety of it.

Isn't the unpredictability of self-discovery remarkable? While figuring this new, undisclosed discovery, I have come to the conclusion that I like the process of self-discovery as much as, if not more, than the actual resolution. Much like that of a road trip, the process of getting where I aim to get is as important as the arrival. A perfect example of this is depicted in the film, The Motorcycle Diaries.

The pre-revolutionary tale of Ernesto 'Che' Guevera completely affirmed not only the importance of road-tripping, but also my feelings about the process of self-discovery. A wonderful moment in the film occurs when Alberto Granado, Ernesto's travel companion, draws a distinct and permanent line on the map of America del Sur. This scene literally transported me into their dream - to drive the entirety of South America. After the mapping out of their dream, the process begins and I was completely involved with it - every crash, every curse, every cold and deplorable night, every drink, every inventive and necessary scam, and every spontaneous encounter.

For me, it is imperative to say that the process is the dream.