A Pirate Looks at Forty

Sun. Nov. 28

The last time I took myself to a part of the globe where literally nobody knew me, I was 22 years old. This time, I’m 40. Other than the age difference, I’m noticing more similarities, many of which feel profound, and they prompt me to wonder whether I, or anyone perhaps (assuming I’m not really that different from most other human beings), ever learns from history, personal or public.

Some of the mundane similarities: 1. I made both moves in September. 2. Great music is my favored outlet (big difference: I brought 30 cassettes to Poland, but 10,000 songs on one cassette-sized MP3 player to Indonesia). 3. Had a pre-planned return to loved ones for Christmas.

More profound similarities: 1. Writing is a needed processing tool (hand-written journal at 22; weblog at 40). 2. Need of a support group somehow (theatre company of strangers at 22; family and friends by email, VOIP, and IM at 40). 3. Initial exhilaration and wonder, and lots of writing in September and October. 4. a form of collapse and silence around Thanksgiving. 5. Following the collapse, the realization that despite everyone’s best efforts, when it comes right down to it you’re on your own.

In Poland, I (with the help of the young couple managing the hunting lodge where we were ensconced) organized a Thanksgiving celebration for the whole town of Gadkowice after tracking down a couple of sacrificial geese (turkey substitutes) on a nearby farm In the midst of the party we threw for ourselves and the town that was hosting the theatre company, we were told that night our future was at risk due to a strike against our director within the theatre’s head office. That strike was one of the factors leading to the death of the director a little over a month later, throwing young Tom (and many in the company) into a long, deep reevaluation of choices made and to be made.

This time around, it was the (from my perspective) surreal day in Singapore ten days ago (see limerick-rant below or in the archive) that brought everything crashing down, leaving me defenseless when Montezuma struck for the third time in nine weeks last weekend.

Looking back on both these adventures, I see them beginning with a typically intense and excited period of pushing by me, in the months (perhaps years in the first case) leading up to the journey, followed by an adrenaline-fuelled start to the actual time on the ground. Inevitably, without a change in attitude, collapse will come when the energy required to deal with current circumstances exceeds the amount of stored “fuel”. "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

I guess you could say that on both occasions a reboot was required.

5. Preceding the reboots, a sustained period of silence and introspection. Avoidance, perhaps? Did I know both times that something was coming that I didn’t want to deal with? I suspect yes.