I think I might have to give the blog a rest. It's not that I don't write, or don't benefit from it. I have a huge journal on my computer! Writing publicly, however, is a different matter. Occasionally I get a small boost of peace doing it, but maybe that's just because I wrote anything at all. I don't look forward to it, I don't enjoy the process, and I'm not proud of the result. Compare this to cycling a 12-hour day into headwinds and up hills. I bound out of a damp, dewy sleeping bag eager to do it, spend the whole day feeling positive about it, and feel like a king at the end of it. All this is true in spite of the pains, frustrations, and complications. This trip, it can be said, has taught me what it feels like to Do The Right Thing.
Having said that, I do have news. I'm going to donate my bicycle to a charity.
Like I said, I know what it feels like to Do the Right Thing. It's time for a break. It's time for a different bicycle. It's time to not put the poor bike into a constricting box and trounce it around inside an airplane's belly. It's time to make the question marks bigger.
I'm going to keep the perfectly-moulded-to-my-butt saddle and my Ortlieb panniers, but everything else is gonna go. This will greatly simplify my life as I fly to Sweden and then board a ship that is half modern, half 18th century. I am ready for whatever life throws at me once that's done. If it ends up that I'm supposed to keep touring, well, I'll just find another bike! There are millions of them out there!
Hence the title of this beard: donations and directions. One is kind of a big thing, and the other is a happy mystery. During a particularly euphoric stretch of cycling a few days ago, I had a thought that sums it all up (the first part to be read in an evil-genius voice):
Yeeesss.... everything is going exactly according to plan! (There is no plan.)
P.S. I am totally not certain about taking a break from blogging.