No Escape from Reality (Austin, Texas)

I'm writing this post sitting in the same spot in the same cigar lounge I occupied 100 days ago, before Fritz and I embarked on our nine thousand-miles (and counting) Ridiculous Random Motorcycle Tour. Before I returned to Austin to settle my affairs.

It feels as if nothing happened. Something did, of course. I have the pictures and posts to prove it. And I grew a beard.

But the Tour feels like it was another life. Not necessarily mine. That's because...

The Past Only Exists In Our Imagination

We live our lives in the moment. Moment by moment.

As we ride the river of time, the people, places, events and things we experience fall behind. In a very real sense, they're gone. Forever.

I think that's why 99 percent of the population aren't wandering souls.

Maintaining a routine creates an illusion of permanence. Keeps existential angst at bay. Makes the journey downriver seem less treacherous. Less fatal?

As Wife Number Two Pointed Out...

Life is a grieving process. There's no avoiding it; we're constantly losing things. Friends, family, jobs, possessions. Our youthful looks and vitality. Our hopes and dreams?

No matter how hard or long or passionately we try to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead (as Elvis sang), life has the last word, forcing our aspirations to change. Through both failure and success.

Psychiatrist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross "invented" (i.e., identified) the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Ms. Kubler-Ross associated DABDA with terminal illness.

But if life is a grieving process, then we're constantly cycling through the five stages of grief.

Or not, if you're married to routine. Then you're living in a constant if comfortable state of denial.

Until you aren't. Especially but not exclusively when you face "the five most stressful life events."

Listed by University Hospital (and countless others), the Big Kahuna of Stress are the death of a loved one, divorce, moving, major illness or injury and job loss. To which I would add the moment children leave the nest.

Some people manage to avoid most if not all of these "stressors." Again, by design. Regardless, approaching the final day, we all face DABDA.

As E.M. Forster wrote in Howard's End, "Death destroys a man; the idea of death saves him." In other words, embracing the stress of change is a profitable path.

To some kind of salvation? Acceptance?

Speaking as someone who went through all of the major "stressors," who rushed headlong towards more than a few, I'm not so sure how that "saved" me.

From boredom, yes. But all I really know: I agree with this life advice from someone who should know:

On to Knoxville

More than a few people have asked me why I'm moving to Marble City. I submit the above as my rationale.

That [not] said, I avoid troubling folks with a philosophical treatise by adhering to the Jewish tradition of answering a question with a question. “Why do surfers move to Hawaii?”

Not for the cost of living or easy airplane connections, that’s 'fer sure. They relocate to commune with Kū, the Hawaiian God of surfing. canoe making, fishing and war.

I'm claiming my stake in Knoxville to pursue the inherently dangerous pleasures of motorcycling.

I've found pavement palekaiko in the Great Smokey Mountains' highways, byways and skyways.

Cruising and occasionally blasting down those twisting roads, I feel a sense of peace and freedom that I haven't found anywhere else, save in the arms (and other parts) of a lover.

What have I sacrificed to "save myself"? A great deal. A deal I've made again and again.

That's how this Wandering Jew rolls. Literally.

So much so that no part of my Austin return seems real.

A part of my mind, maybe the largest part of my mind, is already in Knoxville. Cruising through the countryside, schmoozing with the natives. Doing new things. Resting in a condo I'll occupy come November.

The Kicker

The future doesn't exist either.

As far as I'm concerned, that's a blessing. Not only does acknowledging that fact force me to live in the moment, the future is a scary business.

I'm happy as Larry right now, right here. I have every reason to believe I'll be happy in Knoxville,

While I view myself as extraordinarily lucky to have this opportunity, the only sure thing about luck is that it will change.

Motorcycling is not only dangerous, it has an end date. If Democratic donors can force Joe Biden to surrender the keys to the Oval Office, someone someday can terminate future Farrago's two-wheeled traipsing.

It might even be me putting myself through the inevitable DABDA.

In any case, once I establish my two-month Airbnb retreat Fritz and I are heading West. And I recently met an Appalachian who seems ready, willing and able to light-up my life. As I am hers.

Life is good. For now. Said the Wandering Jew.

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