"By then Chris was gone. Five weeks earlier he'd loaded all his belongings into his little car and headed west without an itinerary. The trip was to be an odyssey in the fullest sense of the word, an epic journey that would change everything. He had spent the past four years, as he saw it, preparing to fulfill an absurd and onerous duty: to graduate from college. At long last he was unencumbered, emancipated from the stifling world of his parents and peers, a world of abstraction and security and material excess, a world in which he felt grievously cut off from the raw throb of existence (Krakauer, Into the Wild, p.22)."
I recently had a conversation with a young man in bar about motorbikes. It occurs to me that many young men of my acquaintance between the ages of 17 and 35 desire to possess and to ride motorbikes. Statistics indicate that it is extremely dangerous to ride motorbikes and that this activity often results in grievous bodily harm and or death. I am intrigued as to what it is about this dangerous activity that so appeals to young men.
The young man in the bar thought it had to do with adrenalin. My step-father (who was once a young man between the ages of 17 and 35 who desired to possess and ride motorbikes) feels it is about masculine independence and freedom - just a man, a machine and the open road. Another friend uses his motorbike as a way of escaping civilisation when the presence of human beings becomes overwhelming.
Adrenalin. Independence. Freedom. Escape. The journey and the machine are inextricably tethered. Young men seek to escape from something, to be independent of something, to be free. What is it they wish to leave behind? Where do they wish to go? I believe that young men seek to experience the “raw throb of existence” through their relationship with the machine. They seek to be free of expectation. They seek distance from conformity so as to have the space to find out who they really are. The man and the machine have an existential relationship.
Youth and restlessness go hand in hand. I am not a young man and I do not desire to possess and ride a machine, yet I do yearn for independence, freedom, adventure and ultimately self-discovery and wisdom. I want to engage in an epic journey.
Chris McCandless loathed his opulent upbringing to such a degree that he would risk his life to escape it. I enjoy and am grateful for my safe and privileged upbringing - but I hunger to experience another side of life. Our parents and grandparents worked hard and suffered so that we would grow up safe and privileged, but the children of my generation yearn to be more exposed.
Like Chris McCandless, who followed his rigid moral code into the Alaskan wilderness, the young wish to expose themselves to anything and everything in the pursuit of the raw throb of existence. The trick, perhaps, is in staying alive and relatively undamaged so as to enjoy the self-discovery and wisdom when (and if) you find it.
Saturday 10 July 2010
Wednesday 7 July 2010
The Young and the Restless
"I wanted movement and not a calm course of existence. I wanted excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I felt in myself a superabundance of energy which found no outlet in our quiet life"
Leo Tolstoy, "Family Happiness," as quoted in Jon Krakauer "Into the Wild".
Leo Tolstoy, "Family Happiness," as quoted in Jon Krakauer "Into the Wild".
Monday 5 July 2010
Cold, Wet Bitumen
It's a cold, rainy Sydney morning. I can hear the wet bitumen sticking to car's tyres as they roll past my window. I don't know why, but for a few years now I've found life in Sydney slightly depressing. It seems too flat somehow - too predictable. I don't know if I like the person I am when I live my Sydney life as much as the person I can be when I'm out of my comfort zone.
Surely this feeling must be something internal that I have attributed to Sydney, as a city, a place. But I can't seem to shake it. I feel truly alive when I'm somewhere new, with new people, discovering new things about myself and the world. I love the sense of possibility that a new environment offers, the adventure and the sense that anything could happen.
I hope one day that I can be happy here in Sydney. This city is where I grew up. My family lives here. My past is here. I would love to be able to embrace all of the good things Sydney can be. Usually when I arrive home in Sydney, driving from the airport in the early morning I adore Sydney for its blue skies and crisp air. I hope that one day my affection for this city, my home town, will stick around.
Surely this feeling must be something internal that I have attributed to Sydney, as a city, a place. But I can't seem to shake it. I feel truly alive when I'm somewhere new, with new people, discovering new things about myself and the world. I love the sense of possibility that a new environment offers, the adventure and the sense that anything could happen.
I hope one day that I can be happy here in Sydney. This city is where I grew up. My family lives here. My past is here. I would love to be able to embrace all of the good things Sydney can be. Usually when I arrive home in Sydney, driving from the airport in the early morning I adore Sydney for its blue skies and crisp air. I hope that one day my affection for this city, my home town, will stick around.
Sunday 4 July 2010
Netball is for Girls
In my fantasies about my new life in tropical paradise, I had joined a local mixed gender soccer or basketball team. I was rudely wrenched from this fantasy earlier this week when I was told that soccer and basketball are for boys only and that women play netball in the Solomons.
"Netball? Lame!" My brain thought.
I played netball when I was in primary school but somewhere along the line my brain created a binary thought pattern that characterised netball as lame and girly and basketball as cool and edgey.
I attended 7 different schools between the ages of 3 and 18 and each time I was "the new girl', a similar scenario would develop.
Stage One: the teacher invariably pairs the new girl up with a girl belonging to the second coolest group of girls.
Stage Two: new girl bonds nervously with the second coolest group of girls.
Stage Three: the second coolest group of girls decide to persecute new girl out of their gang for reaons best known only to themselves.
Stage Four: alone and adrift in the terrifying terrain of the playground, the new girl plays basketball with "the boys" as they are the only ones who will talk to her and not say things like "Is there someone talking or is it the wind blowing in the trees that I can hear?" when the new girl talks.
Stage Five: Coolest group of girls immediately adopts new girl as a strategic move to facilitate romantic trists between themselves and "the boys" ("the boys" of course are infinitely valuable resources in the battle for status and popularity.
And thus was born the idea in my head that basketball was cool and netball was lame.
Years later, you can imagine my shock at having my binary thought pattern ripped in an untimely manner from my world view by the idea that if I was to bond with my fellow Solomon Islanders through the pass time of team sports, I was going to have to join a netball team.
After consirable psychological struggle I have managed to adjust my tropical Solomons fantasy to incorporate netball in place of soccer or basketball. I have the feeling that this will be the first of many challenges to the way I view the world over the next 12 months and I look forward to them all with anticipation.
"Netball? Lame!" My brain thought.
I played netball when I was in primary school but somewhere along the line my brain created a binary thought pattern that characterised netball as lame and girly and basketball as cool and edgey.
I attended 7 different schools between the ages of 3 and 18 and each time I was "the new girl', a similar scenario would develop.
Stage One: the teacher invariably pairs the new girl up with a girl belonging to the second coolest group of girls.
Stage Two: new girl bonds nervously with the second coolest group of girls.
Stage Three: the second coolest group of girls decide to persecute new girl out of their gang for reaons best known only to themselves.
Stage Four: alone and adrift in the terrifying terrain of the playground, the new girl plays basketball with "the boys" as they are the only ones who will talk to her and not say things like "Is there someone talking or is it the wind blowing in the trees that I can hear?" when the new girl talks.
Stage Five: Coolest group of girls immediately adopts new girl as a strategic move to facilitate romantic trists between themselves and "the boys" ("the boys" of course are infinitely valuable resources in the battle for status and popularity.
And thus was born the idea in my head that basketball was cool and netball was lame.
Years later, you can imagine my shock at having my binary thought pattern ripped in an untimely manner from my world view by the idea that if I was to bond with my fellow Solomon Islanders through the pass time of team sports, I was going to have to join a netball team.
After consirable psychological struggle I have managed to adjust my tropical Solomons fantasy to incorporate netball in place of soccer or basketball. I have the feeling that this will be the first of many challenges to the way I view the world over the next 12 months and I look forward to them all with anticipation.
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