I’m here in sunny Goa contemplating the next move. As some of you may have read, yesterday was a bit of a cosmic kick up the backside. It’s time to make a plan.
So far as planning goes, I’m more of a general sense of direction kind of a guy than a we must go this way sort of dude. And I’m fine with that. Except when I’m not.
Hustling a paycheck from blogging is a rollercoaster of fun. I’m living on a shoestring, as many writers do, and that often causes tension. It’s only thanks to the shuffling of currency and the good fortune of a Great British birthplace that I survive so handsomely on just a few pounds.
Existing here in India creates the space to synthesise ideas and to experiment in living a life less ordinary. The myriad ways that life is stimulating and intriguing at the self imposed ‘breadline’ is a creative choice.
Much of the conversation I have with myself at this point is about actuating. Becoming an adult proper. Taking on responsibility. ‘Living the dream’ sometimes feels remarkably Peter Pan like.
Am I resisting adulthood by playing the fool on the beach? Is dreaming of yet another big journey the whimsy of a man-child? Should I just give it all up and take a job?
Or is there another way of being yet to be realised?