A Fragrant Vagrant

Have you ever had the sensation of floating? I mean, in terms of the whole direction in which you are headed in life; disconnected somewhat, not fulfilling your purpose to your true potential. There’s this part of me, let’s call him the artistic nomad within, who is constantly whispering sweet nothings in my ear; apparently trying his level best with tranquil tones to endear me towards his way of life: nonchalant, unconventional, appealing.

I must say, I really like what this scruffy beatnik is telling me. Even though his timing hasn’t always been wonderful to say the least, I appreciate his presence nonetheless; he’s gotten me into a bit of trouble in the past, that is to say, I’ve gotten myself in trouble. (He is part of me, I think.)

Whenever I’ve verbalised the conversations we’ve been having to people close to me, describing my wild notions as vague snippets of dream-like visions, more often than not I suffer for it in some way. That is to say, I perceive it as suffering, in the short-term at least. It is sometimes even the case that I end up hurting someone close to me- perhaps even losing them forever- and who could blame them. It’s then I tell myself that these notions are not so practical or logical after all, and the beatnik gets put back in his box for another few months.

I really don’t know what it is about me, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that this is an itch that is going to have to be scratched, sooner or later. When exactly, I’m not quite certain. But I do know that as long as I continue to put it off, he will continue to remind me of what it is that I should really be doing.

That’s not to say that I’m completely dissatisfied with my current situation, not in the least in fact, but who knows what’s around the corner? I’ve always been fascinated by- and drawn to- the unknown. I’ve always maintained that it’s in that very place- in that yet unexplored land of discomfort around said corner- where opportunity awaits.

For the purposes of digressing, yet again, I’m yet to find a place where I feel at peace- whatever that means. It frustrates the shite out of me sometimes if I’m perfectly honest, the fact that I still have this feeling of longing for something; it’s particularly annoying that I don’t even know what it is I’m looking for (or do I?); it’s as if this whole period of expat-living (for want of a better expression) has been a wild goose chase of metaphysical proportions.

What if though, this long haired, care-free entity, whose worldly possessions are wrapped in a bindle, has the answers? It certainly appears that he knows something I don’t. And who is he anyway? What is he? Inner-compass; consciousness; higher power; intuition; schizophrenia? Call it what you want. I’m sure you’ve all received similar messages from within? A conversation with the self of sorts, or rather, with your other-worldly self, or sub-particle self, or the real you, or God, even? Who knows.

It might not even stretch as far as a conversation, it could be a simple yet profound one-word quip in times of uncertainty, or a reassuring hand on the shoulder upon arrival at a crossroads, or it could present itself as a feeling deep in the pit of your stomach, if and when you find yourself acting in such a way that contradicts your inner purpose, in those times when you go against your better judgement.

In any case, however this omnipresent and apparently all-knowing source of energy makes itself known to you, isn’t it worth taking notice? Whatever it is and wherever it’s coming from- that’s a whole other can of worms we can crack open another day perhaps- doesn’t it remain in our best interests that we start listening and living in accordance with the signs and messages that this unknown source of wisdom is relaying to us. I certainly think so. Or to at least beg the question of ourselves, in whose best interests are we acting? Because it for sure beats living in accordance with the messages that someone else is relaying to us, don’t you think?

In my own case at least, I’ve come to realise that my inner wanderer usually makes himself known in times when I desperately need it most, if even I don’t understand it at the time; as far as I can recall, whenever I have listened I have benefited, finding myself realigned along the path. On the flip-side of that spiritual coin, if ever I’ve chosen not to listen, tuning out the scraggy wanderer within, I’ve suffered in some way, straying from the path.

So whatever form your spiritual alter-ego presents itself as, get to know them, tune in to their messages, listen to what they are trying to relay to you, and appreciate the mere fact that you are aware of their presence.

I’m sure one day soon I will finally decide to scratch this itch. I’ll turn around to my inner beatnik and say “OK, you win. Where to next?” I’ll depart from the grid for a while, return to center, and perhaps write another novel or two. Fuck it, I might even grow a beard again! Just writing the words warms my heart. I can picture him now sitting in the lotus position along the banks of the river that is my soul, his long hair blowing in the breeze, smiling from ear to ear as he reads the words over my shoulder.