Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”

Words to live by, really. What is out there beyond a great perhaps? Nothing is set in stone. I used to think about destiny when we read Greek mythologies in school. Destiny is not to be avoided, it cannot be skirted around and it never fails. But in every myth there was the briefest of chances that a single decision could curtail the predetermined path.  They never worked; instead they just set the path in motion guaranteeing the finality of the outcome.

Looking at the world as if it is predetermined adds a sense of obsolete hopelessness. Why would I ever plan for my future if it is already guaranteed? Why try to make something of myself when it’ll either happen or it won’t— with dependence on choices I make, but without holding true to why I make them?

Destiny. What a feeble concept for a life plan. Screw destiny.

I’m going to seek my great perhaps. Francois Rabelais was a man of true wisdom when he spoke that idea out loud. Too bad he was dying and never had another brilliant thought for me to use as a mantra.

Where is this great perhaps, though? Should I just move westward like the settlers as they sought out their homesteads or those foolhardy enough to seek caches of gold nestled in the hills and streams? The great perhaps could be nothing more than a life lived in discovery, a life filled with experiences and friendships, thrills and tears. It may be nothing I want to find— but find it I will.