Wellington
For
27 years I have lived in this city; and for 27 years I have lived within the
boundaries set for me. Those boundaries – classrooms, offices, and suburbs –
carry us through, and form, an essential part of being a human being. Albeit,
they only form part of it.
When
time in the day is short, and those longings we feel are buried under an
avalanche of work and busyness, we can’t help but go on living – without
actually experiencing what it feels
like to be alive.
Indeed,
there are times in each of our lives – and I say this in the most unqualified
way – where our lives are structured so that our inner desires are entirely
consistent with our outer circumstances. Say those, be they good, or be they
bad, sometimes come to fruition, and when they don’t, we often see what a
fragile heart lies beneath modern life. Let me say this in another way: life,
designed, is a powerful and uplifting notion. Life destroyed, through
circumstance or otherwise, is equally powerful, but tinged with pain and
sadness.
This
conflict – this fragile and delicate balance – between our inner desires and
outward circumstances, rises most when the boundary lines start to fade and
weaken. When we test these boundaries – formerly known to us – reward and
punishment await. These new boundaries give rise to further conflict, and the
pattern repeats, until the conflict is solved and the gap between the known and
the unknown is bridged. And one day – perhaps long in the future – we find
peace in our souls, and comfort in our hearts.
But
first, in the shifting rites of passage, there is also a time for discovery.
I
fear I am getting too theoretical, so let me at the outset state what this is. This
is not a story of a tourist, basking in the noon-day sun. No –
this is a story of deep reflection on the world around us, and the role we, as
individuals, play in that world. It is also the story of two people – alone in
a foreign country save for each other – and how they change along the way.
Six
weeks is hardly a long time. One can spend his entire lifetime in a place, and
if, by way of conformity, he never leaves, he can never really know the place.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, one can change his entire outlook on life
in a matter of weeks – if such intensity of experience will allow. In six weeks
too, desperate longings, ranging from a bowl of soup to the loftiest of philosophical ideals, can occupy and consume his entire existence. Such
experiences, if interesting enough, might well read something like these notes.
In
May, many months ago, the decision was made to travel to the archipelagos and
Visayas of the Philippines; through good fortune and a bit of luck, the road is now travelled by two adventurers, two
dreamers. Were we too impetuous, too haphazard in our planning – too careless?
Time will judge us, and perhaps our fellow man too, but we can only interpret
and see what our impulses allow us to. I am responsible for these words; the
world is responsible for being as it is.
As I write, I see a different person emerging.
My wanderings in the past have changed me; released me, endeared me, perhaps,
hardened me, to the experience of fellow man. This trip, these wanderings –
they’re changing me. I am no longer who I once was.
I said at the outset that for 27 years I have
lived within the boundaries set for me. I have also alluded to the presence of
change – so much so that change is now becoming the only constant in my life.
In any
photographic manual, you can expect the landscapes and other scenes to reflect
only part of what is going on. In evenings shared only with moonlight, these pictures
may appear dark and agnostic; but they are real, violent and sudden against the
passage of time. This is not the only thing going on, for readers of this book
may witness a change – and not necessarily in that of the author.
For now though,
my only thoughts are those I leave behind, and I shall leave you with that man,
whose world was once something very different…
* Title borrowed from "The Motorcycle Diaries" by Che Guevara
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