Six years ago, I had half the story. And what an interesting story it was...in the course of several years, I'd spanned nearly every geographic region in the world - mostly just getting to know how other folks thought. I conversed with the San in Namibia, sitting outside buildings charred by neglect and a war of independence, trying to muddle through the issues of the day. I witnessed ritual animal sacrifice, festivals, happiness, abject poverty, and the horror of no way out. I sat and discussed HIV issues with an ambassador, talked shop with a half racist Afrikaner in Kwa Zulu Natal, saw incredible vistas and snowcapped mountain ranges in Lesotho, soaked up the bustle and noise of Dakar, slipped in and out of railway cars in Tokyo, slept in long range haulers through the Japanese lowlands, sat in ramen booths in Osaka, recorded beautiful music in Shinsaibashi, cried and marveled with the homeless in Nicaragua, swayed in the streets of Seoul, slept in the cramped apartments of Hongdae, walked among the cobblestones of East London...loved the beautiful patchwork quilt of creation set before me.
What has changed in six years? Mainly me. The way that I approach life is quite different than before. I settled into what was expected. Funds dried up, doors closed, and abroad - for a time, seemed so very far away. But when all hope seemed lost, I met my other half and became a whole being...and she spoke softly, of things I'd forgotten, of pictures I'd packed away or lost, of dreams deferred and of a heart that was growing sick with self-denial. This began two years ago.
So I began to pick up and dust off my dreams. I began to save, and I began to plan...
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