This is. The part where I say, "I don't want it"

So I pushed myself to go to Europe, and, unexpectedly, Africa (though that was an easier decision). And on the whole it was good. I had some fun, some truly awesome fun, met great people, saw incredible landscapes and places, had some blues, misbehaved, hung out with some lovely guys, and only occasionally wanted to bolt, felt included and excluded in equal measure, was challenged and challenged back, and I saw some true colours of people that I didn't really expect to see. 

In the end, I've found myself feeling both strong and fragile. Strong because I know and understand my core values a little better. Fragile because, in the words of Jane Austen, "The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters" (Pride and Prejudice, 1813).  

Overall the experiment has worked I think. And a good thing to do in this significant-birthday year. It's interesting to see people pushing their agendas, communicating poorly. Perhaps I'm the same. 

It's time to wrap up this experiment though. I'm an old man and I crave my little comforts - the pillows that don't hurt my neck, smoke free air, clothes I haven't worn every second day for a month and that have been cleaned and dried in the air, soft towels, decent coffee, simple home cooking and an afternoon lazing in front of a good sized tv. And solitude. Quiet, blissful solitude.  

Obviously I have a list of things to do on my return. Some mundane, others a set of self improvement resolutions. Some things can only be seen with perspective. And I don't claim clarity in that regard, but the time out has been useful. Perhaps the only real challenge in life is to know yourself. Honestly. Properly. Brutally. Forgivingly. 

I agree with Shrek: ogres are like onions - they have layers. I feel that, while I'm still moving through layers, I might have moved this year into a different onion. It's different to how I've felt in the past. Time will tell. We all have our baggage. I can tell that I've discarded some through this process. Now it's time to repack what baggage remains - just a backpack, with the essentials. 

So thank you to everyone that has helped me on this journey. Yes, and to everyone less than helpful too. Everyone has their part to play. 

It's been good, though I feel bittersweet about it. I need my own space and my own company. Time to hang up the traveling bag and the universal power adapter for a while. Time to go home. 

With thanks to Ariana Grande

The Chamber of Missing Things

It's been dark here. Not for any terrible reason. Fearful maybe. But mostly just forgotten. Overgrown with weeds and sinews. 

Now I've opened the curtains. Rediscovered the place, like a ruined abbey. Or a disused sanctuary. It once felt safe and sound there, even though it never was - quite the opposite. 

As I look around its soft grey stone, is has a calming coolness. There is moss there, bright green, and soft leaf litter around the stones, like a glade in a deep forest. It isn't dank, or even wet. If it had been the site of a massacre there is no trace of it now. Except perhaps in the lushness of the ferns and greenery. 

In some ways it is like a engine bay of a giant machine, but one with the engine long since removed. Only the stone fixing mounts and brackets provide the hint of any such former function. And perhaps the compact shape that could forensically reveal its former occupant, like a frozen waistcoat, if you scraped away the moss and the soft forest floor. Confusingly the space is also small, and the scale is hard to pin down. It is both a jewel box, and the hall of a disused power station. 

It had been a place of memory and gravity. And deep sadness. Now that the boarding up has slipped away, and the curtains pulled aside and the light floods in though it feels peaceful. It feels lighter and still inside. A breeze flows through and you can see daylight across the opening. There is impression of hope in the negative space mapped out its former occupant. But that brings fear too.

Somewhere on the other side of the world a figure with a backpack still moves. Silently. Secretly. Not hiding. But not being found either. Exactly where he needs to be. Moving his cargo of playing cards, bottle caps and the tiny coins of foreign currencies. We only catch glimpses on grainy video, or unreliable reports of his whereabouts. But we can sense he is alive. And well. Secret. Safe. And free. 

I think he's holed up in some quiet pub, amongst strangers and new friends. I think he's having a good time. But the truth is that's all from one picture of him, in a dark overcoat and a wide brimmed double pointed hat, stooping slightly to enter the door of an old tavern, and turning back to look over his shoulder at the elevated camera. What happens after that is anybody's guess. 

The curator knows that it is time to have opened the space. Curiously, perhaps, because he didn't know the space had been there at all. What he also hadn't known was how heavy it had been. But in that first sigh that came with its the opening, like the cracking open of an old tomb,  perhaps a small dark presence, or echo, had been allowed to leave. Now it's sunny in there and airy. And lighter. 

The curator has a nostalgic idea that the engine may return to the sanctuary. And this could happen. But it is far from certain. And not necessary. There is a new space here. Despite its age. 

There is an illusion that meeting new people provides. A choice paradox. But it is a mistake to imagine that quests are so easily resolved. It's a trap. And the most important thing to realise is that there is no quest. 

So I will carry this mossy grey chamber with me for a time. 

Marriage Equality Sans Marriage

Is it just me? 

I'm so happy that I am not home for the horrific charade that is the marriage equality debate in Australia. 

Obviously I'm voting yes. Take out the words marriage equality from the equation and replace then with 'slavery' or 'women's rights' and all of the no arguments are the same. It's offensive really. 

What's more important is for my country to send the real and symbolic message that to be gay in Australia is not to be a second class citizen - that at a fundamental legal and social level it's ok. 

But don't hold your breath. Even if it's a resounding yes the Liberals, and the disgusting coward Fizza at its helm (complete with all his puppet strings) won't leap to change the law. It will stall and flounder until they lose government. Then Labor has pledged to pass the law within 100 days, but let's face it, their track record is nearly as disgusting.  

The bitterest message though in all of this for me is that I won't be marrying. All the single people my age, or age appropriate to me, have either given up, are crazy, or both. Not a productive field. I place myself in the first or maybe the third camp there. 

So every time I hear anything about marriage equality know that it is a double stab - first because it's clear my country thinks I'm second class, and a second because irrespective of any law, it's not going to change for me anyway. I guess I had my turn years ago. 

"And that is why my eyes are closed,

It's just as well for all I've seen

And so it goes, and so it goes, 

And you're the only one who knows"*

Perhaps that's the best way to cast a - well I hate to call it a vote because it isn't, but you know what I mean - vote; not for yourself, but for the benefit of future generations. 

Yes. It is just me. 

* Billy Joel, And So It Goes, Stormfront, 1989