Today I took the plunge, and booked my plane flight to Sri Lanka. I'm leaving NZ on May 26th to begin in earnest a life of homelessness.
To describe the feeling just before hitting that button, it was like standing at the door of a plane ready to jump out. You know you've got the parachute and your emergency-chute, it's all packed, secured, you checked it thrice, but all the same there's that last minute wish to stay with what you know - something to stand on. For me that something to stand on was the life I have led over the past 19 and a bit years, in a southern New Zealand town called Dunedin, where you run into people you know on the street, the Winters are cold and romantic, the Summers lazy and warm, and nothing really changes.
Of course that middle class comfort, replete with the sensual pleasures is a mere illusion, disguising the inevitable disease, decay and death that must befall us all, and yet there was a hesitation, a willingness to continue this life of grand procrastination. There was a willingness to go down with the ship, a long with all those that I love.
But in the end that's all it is, a great deception. No comfort. No safety.
It's time to do what should be done. It's time to put forth effort and steer this raft to the farther shore.