I often think about what brought my family to America originally. My German and Welsh heritage somewhere along the lines decided opportunity awaited them across the sea. Some of the history on the German side is known, however, my Welsh side dies somewhere a few generations back. There's quite of bit of irony in the realization that I am, for more or less, negating their intentions of casting themselves out from their homelands to become something new.If they were alive today, I'm certain they'd either laugh hysterical or attempt a painful and violent session of torture to bring me around.
However it's too late, here I am, my new world: Belgium. Though we tend to think of the world smaller today, and true, my journey to arrive here lasted only eight hours on a vessel traveling just under Mach 1, any attempt for my imaginary ancestors who are heckling me in my head are quickly subdued with the happiness that I'm here, right here, right now. I had hoped for a degenesis, and I'm going through nothing less than that. You can try to anticipate, and "wish" for true adventure to happen, but I have a feeling that most people who claim such efforts are often unaware of the ever-lurking truth- that true adventure doesn't come by intensity, accomplishment, of absurdness, it comes from failure, slowly, ever changing you over time- from one moment to another, a silent whisper in your ear that you don't realize is there till you look back at the day, or week before and say to yourself with a smile: "I'm no longer her." The poem I wrote called Departure I think best describes this process. I think I died the moment I got on that plane. Maybe not biologically, but I think, by that single act, I had set a series of events in motion that will bring about something so wonderful, I can't wait to see what I become.
Of course, that's the hard part. Knowing you have the capability to be something greater than you are now, but know that it only comes when you least expect it. So now I set out for this New World on an ocean of uncertainty, not knowing the destination but beguiled with wonder and so ever happy to have set sail.