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Why do we travel?

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In my last post, we talked about upping and moving to a whole new part of the world, China. Why do we desire to travel? For the young and restless, we leave our familiar surroundings in search of greener, foreign pastures in the name of adventure. Adventure brings us new experiences and perspective. That’s how we get the generations of us budget and millennial travellers who roam the world from hostel to hostel, coming home refreshed, renewed and ready for the real world ahead of us. In this globalized world where geographic boundaries are blurred, the world truly is our oyster. As a result, generations of us have shifted our mindsets, from being afraid and apprehensive of the strange things out there, to an insatiable sense of curiosity and thirst for the unknown. The hero or the traveler has evaded us for decades, returning as some kind of enigma for the things and insights they must have gotten from their exotic journeys and destinations.


Image result for china

Traveling for leisure is fun, especially when you get to see things you wouldn’t normally see at home. That’s why you travel anyway. In an increasingly stressful and urbanised world where we are connected all the time and are “always on”, we often seek otherworldly experiences to disconnect and detach from the stresses of the urban life.

In today’s world, there are more types of travelers than we can count on our fingers. Some go on luxury travel, where accommodation, food and destinations are of high standards and fit for the king. Save for business and corporate travelers, there are also eco/cultural-travelers, who travel adhering to ecological standards of the destination, in order to either minimise their ecological footprint or further their knowledge and cause of ecology. Through it all, however, I can only say that travel is a beneficial thing – we leave a fresh novice, and return a knowledgeable hero, with insights and experience to share.

Placed in a new environment, we are left to our own devices to find our way around and relate to the locals. That isn’t always easy on first look. Even if they speak the same language as we do, it won’t mean we can identify or relate to them easily. There will always be different ways of saying or doing things in order to obtain something. For example, social networking platforms used in South Korea for communication differs greatly to that of the US, Europe and the rest of the world. The same logic applies for Japan and China and so on. Being in a new country demands that we use creative devices to relate to them, if we are too make friends. Otherwise, we might find ourselves isolated and lost for the better part of our travels.

Returning home from a long journey ensures we are aware of different backgrounds and cultures. As a result, we have a greater culture sensitivity to different types of people from all walks of life, which is essential when we consider that our world is increasingly globalized.

I know feel recharged and I’ve now found home in Brisbane again for awhile. My friend Josh has hooked me up with a job with his company. It’s tough work having your hands above your head so much, but there is some quality of it that is very zen, which is ironic based on my return from China and it being the home of Zen.

Until next time.…

My Dad and Guns

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Living out here in Colfax County, New Mexico, it is important that we know how to use a gun. One of the best places out this way to learn more about guns, gun safety, and the ends and outs of shooting is at the NRA Whittington Center here in Colfax County.


The first time I went to the Whittington Center was with my dad when I was 14 years old. Before then, I had my own pellet gun I would use to shoot rodents. My dad was ready for me to move up to a rifle, though, because we began having problems with coyotes on our property. He was tired of being the only one to sit up at night to take care of the coyotes and figured I was old enough to help.

Going to the shooting range was one of my favorite memories with my dad. I learned a lot and enjoy the hands-on instruction I was given. Though I love my dad, he wasn’t the best teacher, so I was glad he took me to the Whittington Center to learn.

After taking the classes, my dad and I spent many nights out hunting coyotes. I feel like that’s when I learned how to be a man, as I spent that one-on-one time with him. We even shot a few coyotes along the way.

My dad passed away five years ago, so on days like today when I miss him, I tend to find myself back at the NRA Whittington Center. The smell of gunpowder brings back a flood of memories of the time that I spent with my dad here and out in the field hunting coyotes.

Someday, when I find the right girl to settle down with and have children, I want to be able to teach my children about guns the same way my dad did with me. Of course, I’ve got to find that right girl first. Out here in Colfax County the options are a little limited, but I’m sure that right girl is out there somewhere waiting to meet me as well.

The Water

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I can’t believe it’s come to this.
A life in chains or a raised fist.
The chains, that you thought were imposed on you by society, expectations from friends, family, partners, lovers, your upbringing, your own ego and self-belief that everyone is watching, that idea that you are so important. These chains weren’t cast on you by external entities trying to destroy you. They were slung over your shoulders, across your back by yourself. These burdens are yours and your choice.
The names you gave to your self-imposed oppression, your struggle, your fight against them, they were just labels; badges, an identity in order to give you the belief that you are deeper and more interesting than you actually are. You are a label with a rule book you have to adhere to, out of fear you will be outed as a fraud or a traitor to your imaginary cause.
The pursuit to say “I’m an individual” through means of identification with a particular way of life, an ideology, a false truth, a lie. You identify as the brand, a character, an actor on a stage that is not yours, you are not the person.
You stop being the individual, the entity that is eternal, evolving and infinite. You’ve forgotten you were born into a sea chaos and you will die in it. Drowning, struggling or otherwise.
Your search for truth and identity has you fighting against the waves, the rips, the tide, the moon, the universe in order to feel justified by your own truth of yourself.
There is no truth, there is only chaos. You can either embrace it, learn to live with it or die.
You can fight against the tide, the undertow, the waves in the pursuit of a truth that will never be realised and a struggle that will never see an end.
Or you can relax and swim in the ocean, let the waves take you, bask in the sun, but knowing you won’t drown.
Let the liquid of uncertainty wash over you in the comforting realization. You don’t know shit.
You are who you are.
You are eternal.