I admit I am not the most direct writer at the best of times. Everything I write takes the most circuitous route to the point I am trying to make. I like to write for the sake of seeing how much I can mangle the English language to make it vaguely amusing, often only to myself. But any post with a title like 'Happy toast and the vision' is bound to go beyond even my own rambling limits.
Through various misunderstandings and permutations, my nickname has now become 'Happy toast'. Even if I could justify it, each person who contributed to its formulation would probably have a different explanation of how it came to be. I think it is vaguely complimentary, so I won't complain lest it changes again to something less savoury. My nickname was originally 'Legend', which I was obviously quite chuffed with until I found out its origins. Apparently it was my passing resemblance to the old hostel dog 'Legend' who is 18 years old, covered in grey hair and walks like he repeatedly stood on a land mine!
As for the vision, it came while wandering Bowens unusually wide roads that are only one quarter bitumenised. Although the Virgin Mary didn't appear, her presence wouldn't have increased its profundity. It would have been pretty cool to have seen her, other than the raritiy of meeting a virgin. Claiming to have had such visions may compromise the seriousness of my writing as people dismiss me as just being too drunk or stoned.
Admittedly, I did have a Johnnie Walker in one hand and a joint in the other, but my thinking was lucid. Even if my walking was struggling to grasp the straight line principle. In the international melting pot of the hostel, I have tried hard not to be overtly 'ocker'. Although not the epiphany, I did realise that I was behaving in an extremely ocker manner by wandering the streets with a tinnie and smoke in hand.
But there I was, age 33 or 12,164 days old to be exact, staggering down the street at 6:30pm on a Monday night. Another random town on another random adventure. My epiphany was how appropriate my aimless wanderings down the road were as an analogy for my life. There was no purpose, no destination and most importantly, no worries. This may be disconcerting to most people to find themselves in this position. But to me, it was an extremely liberating feeling.
As usual, my only companions on this walk were a whiskey and a joint, but I have a big enough social circle in Bowen full of beautiful people. I didn't know any of them two months ago, and taking into account past experience, these same people may be of little significance in a year or so. Right now though, they are making my time in Bowen one of the most enjoyable of my life. And while my life continues along its merry path of no purpose, destination or shortage of intoxicants, it is this realisation that makes it all worthwhile. My life does just keep getting better, not because one situation is any better than the one it proceeded. Our capacity to experience grows and the more we challenge ourselves, the more we are rewarded.
Anyway, I derive a lot of comfort from thinking that I don't need an ultimate purpose in life other than just enjoying the moment. Being prepared to let an experience go when it finishes and move onto the next with a firm belief that it will be better. It's worked for me so far and I'm loving life because of it. Even if your own path in life is extremely different to the one I have and write about, enjoy every moment, be open to anything and don't be afraid to thrown caution to the wind and let the universe dictate the terms. As I always find, you'll be surprised where it leads.
