Landscapes

And now a word in praise of vagabonds. Where would humanity be without explorers, nomads, wanderlusters and the like? Let the rest of the world stay in one place and paint self-portraits in the pale shades of routine conformity. God bless the working class with their regular bowel movements. As for me, sticking with things means I’m on an oiled massage table. Yes, I can hold down a “job” if pressed to do so and am about to celebrate my 12^th wedding anniversary. These are not accomplishments. For those of us for whom variety is a staple rather than a spice, life isn’t digestible without forays into the unknown. We’re proud of the risks we take and the courage to try new things. It’s not better—just different.

Still, I haven’t always been comfortable being a scanner to quote the term coined by author Barbara Sher. I worried for years that I was somehow defective, unstable, immature, and subsequently paid more than one therapist good money to find out why long term goals have always eluded me. Was it too many Sinatra songs at a tender age, followed by a few years of recreational drugs at a slightly older age?. Bad/planets/broken/home. Who can say? I was in point of fact perfectly adapted for a Southern California childhood in the sixties and seventies. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t lived there for over two decades-- I’m still more at home on a freeway heading out of town than anywhere else. To truly live by the Tumbleweed’s code is to make no apologies and take no prisoners.

Which brings me to New Zealand. Accidentally on purpose. It’s so beautiful, so wild, and so, so freakin small. For an American like myself who grew up with the ethos of bigger, faster, farther--there’s significantly less pressure here to amount to something—in fact one wants to avoid standing out. Certainly no one is going to call you a loser for not wanting to claw your way to the top of the food chain, which in this country means you shop at Foodtown rather than Pack and Save. Auckland is arguably nirvana for those who are content to get by on simple pleasures and occasional sunny days, surrounded by seductively accessible coastline and mostly decent wines.

Still, it’s also a place that doesn’t offer much of anything out of the usual, has a quasi arts scene at best, and no old world culture to speak of. That’s what jet airplanes are for—if you don’t mind flying for a long, long time to get to somewhere with a pulse. Yep, I’m restless here after six years just like I’ve been most other places. Meditation helps---especially if I’m trancing out on the getaways section of the paper….

See you in economy.

Love,

Gwendolyn.