Traveler's Life

The following is a story I wrote while I was in a Buddhist Monastery in Katmandu. I was feeling very nostalgic.

Don’t Dwell on the Past

The past is exactly that; the past. You can’t bring it back nor can you change it. Still, we all have regrets about things that happened in the past. I would estimate that there isn’t a person on the planet over five-years-old who doesn’t regret something from their past.

We all know that regret is a waste of time, and that dwelling on our past is self-destructive. By the same token, there are certain events from our past that we should not forget. Remembering an event–good, bad or indifferent– is how we learn and grow. However, there is a big difference between dwelling and remembering. Dwelling on an event from the past is the surest way to a closed mind and emotional stagnation.

There are countless examples of different things we might regret from the past; relationships that went sour,  our sixth-grade bully, cheating on a second-grade spelling test, getting fired. Maybe you got a great job promotion or won the high school football championship. All of these are simply events from the past.

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Hearing the water lap gently against the gunnels, I smell fresh, clear air mixed with diesel fuel as our small boat chugs along Lake Titicaca.

Our first destination is the Uros Islands. These small islands in South America are man-made and have been used by the native people for generations.

Reeds are the life-force of this band of floating nomads. Reeds are also the raw material used to build the boats the natives fish with. They are a source of food, are used for home construction, and reeds are even bunched and woven together to form the islands the natives live on.

Before today I had only heard about these remote islands, islands on which the residents float gently around on one of the highest lakes in the world. Warm, high-altitude sun beats on my face as a cool, gentle breeze blows down the back of my neck. The first leg of our eight-hour boat ride nears to a stop. Our captain, smelling of damp wool and no shower, smiles a coca-leafed smile and slows the engine. Chug..chug.. chug… a bow line is secured to a large wooden post with a creek of the rope.

Our cheesy band of backpacker tourist begins to exit the boat. Each person jumps about five feet from the deck onto the floating island. It sounds like kids playing in a hayloft. Alas, it is my turn as I land with a crunch and immediately feel my brain kick-start the part used for balance. It feels like standing on the old waterbed I had in college. I shift my weight and feel one foot sink a little deeper into the reed matt, reveling in childish enjoyment.

Suddenly I’m very young and back in my parent’s basement looking at a National Geographic, lying on the floor, wrapped in an old quilt that smells safe; like Grandma. I don’t think I could read very well at that time, but I definitely remember those pictures, the pictures of floating island made of reeds.

Smiling, thinking back to my youth in Nebraska, I see that even though it may have taken a few years I now know the ground really does move when you walk on the floating Uros Islands of Lake Titicaca.

A Difficult Question

A sharp pain, focused on the right side of my neck, spreading to my head and halfway down my back woke me up. I was cuddled beside my beautiful wife, under a Hudson Bay trapper blanket and down comforter, topped with a quilt my grandmother made as a child. We were at our second home, a small condo nestled in the woods at 9300 ft in Summit County, Colorado. The fire in the front room had gone out and it was cold. I told myself, “I’ll just go back to sleep, all I need is rest and this awful headache will go away. It didn’t work. Sitting up, I felt the cold rush over my naked chest. I cocked my head to the side, praying to hear that wonderful pain-relieving crack. I stretched from one side to the other, again, no luck. It felt as if I had only made the vice on my neck tighter. I decided to try the chemical, hot shower and positive thinking approach. It was 4:23 in the morning. I was 37-years-old and I knew this entire headache was a result of my own self-induced stress.

Twenty-nine days ago, while sitting on the big leather sofa watching the Sunday political shows, I waited for my wife to return from our final diagnostic test at the fertility clinic. The extensive barrage of tests had all come back positive, meaning it just wasn’t our time yet to have a baby. As I watched the spin-doctors work their magic on the morning talk show, my wife came home, opened the door and bursts into tears. “I’m killing your sperm.” We hugged each other and I just wanted to comfort her. It killed me to see my wife in pain. We talked and I tried to listen, not fix, not finish sentences, just listen. As we cuddled on the couch and I watched the woman I loved in such pain, I learned that I am not to be a father. At first it didn’t really hit me. I was focused on my wife’s tears. Her pain. I could not begin to understand how she must have felt. Every strand of her being had been programmed from before her own birth to reproduce, nurture, and defend. In essence, to become a mother. This wasn’t to suggest that I was like an old Grizzly bear–fulfill my physical needs, move on and then if we should meet again, I might eat the little ones. I simply realized that I could not comprehend what my wife was feeling.

That Sunday was a long day.

Contemplation Begins

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This is a self-indulgent update of who I am and what I have been up to.

After being raised and graduating from high school in Omaha, Nebraska, I attended the University of Wyoming. Since that time I have moved around the West a fair bit. I have settled in one place for now, in Denver, Colorado.

I am very happily married to my English wife and best friend, Mourbareka Nurmahomed Kluver, aka Reka, aka Trouble. We met on a freighter in Patagonia, Chile in 1998. She fell in love with me immediately and followed me around like a little puppy from country to country, (This is a lie, but it is my story and I am sticking to it). We have had the good fortune to travel. My wife and I have been to all seven continents and visit London regularly.

With the exception of travel, we really try and embrace a simple life. We don’t have cable, so we watch Netflix and read a lot. We like to try and take 1-3 months off–or at least away from our home base–a year. Unfortunately, kids were not in the cards for us, providing my wife and I with the unique privilege of being the “cool” Auntie and Uncle. We can focus full attention on the kids in our lives and then when they get grumpy or crash, leave them to their parents.

At 39, (yes she married a younger man), Reka made a major career change. She used to be an accountant, but went back to school and will soon graduate with her Masters Degree in Counseling. As far as my own career, Reka likes to say I am distracted by shiny objects and don’t work well with people I don’t respect. I have been self-employed for many, many years and have owned over a dozen businesses. It is challenging working for myself, but I really enjoy it and the lifestyle self-employment allows.

As far as I know I continue to get better looking every day. However, I have gained a few pounds. I have an annoying knee after four surgeries, which has slowed my cardo down a bit. Other than that, clean living and no more drinking or smoking are the norms for me now. I first had to prove to myself that I had perfected those pursuits, but finally learned that it was time to try something different.

I figure with our life expectancies now predicted to be around 100-years-old, for me time is getting close to the end of the 2nd quarter. I can definitely say there are things I shouldn’t have done, but I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. The first half has been a great adventure.

I can’t wait to see what is around the corner.

Keep Smiling