A week ago I was trekking through the mountains, above the tree line, in a blizzard. Now I am sitting in my comfortable study, using my plentiful electricity. I have all the conveniences that progress can offer, but something is missing. I don’t feel alive like I did on that mountain, and no amount of RAM can make up for that.
Often when I travel I think “I could live here”. It happened in New Zealand. It happens in Melbourne. And now it has happened in Tasmania. It would be so easy. Property is so cheap, and I could support myself easily. The plentiful hippies do it, so could I. No stress. No rat race. Ah, the sweet illusion. The scary truth: no bandwidth.
But I digress. My point is that I have seen this pattern, and I have realised that I am prepared to leave my comfort zone and live somewhere else. I see Mel return from Canada, itching to try somewhere else. She has the travel bug, and I think it is contagious. This is why I know that I am ready to move to Europe with Kirsten. In my head, I have already crossed that line.