The Journey

By Morgan Anthony

After many years of nothing but participating in a world where I didn't belong, abiding by routines and behaving 'accordingly' -- whatever that means -- I decided that it was time for a change. Something within me longed for more, so within two weeks of deciding to do whatever it takes to find my true path in life, I packed my bags and bought the first place ticket to the nearest, warmest place: the Caribbean islands. There I spent most of my time in isolation, observing the world from a distance, and developing my own inner understandings that would guide me through the world I have chosen to venture. Such a drastic change forced me to face who I really was, and whatever was suppressed or hidden before, could now manifest into the Universe. Sometimes the most unexpected things can bring you closer to a truth you never even knew existed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morgan Anthony
• Release date: Apr 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311165251

Morgan Anthony

Just a writer trying to find their place in the world :)

Book preview

The Journey

Part I: Mind vs Universe

Written By Morgan Anthony

© 2016 Morgan Anthony

In early December of 2014, I decided to embark on a Journey. I was ready for a change, and ready to take on the world. What you see here is a journal of my personal inner dialogue. There will be inconsistencies, emotions across the spectrum, and probably grammatical errors, but be not fooled. This isn’t a novella, nor a memoir. It is simply a personal story I have chosen to share.

Some entries will be very short, others will be painfully long. I have tried to keep everything as close to how it was originally written, and as honest as possible with minimal editing.

If you have been led here, I believe it’s for a reason.

Contents

2014

December

2015

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

2016

January

February

March

April

There it was, the email that would change my life; bolded right at the top, I clicked it open and read the contents.

Approved.

This was it, I was moving to the Caribbean. Why? Well…because fuck it, that’s why. But the reaction I had was very unanticipated. I felt fear — illogical and irrational — but I had nothing to fear. Nonetheless, it was a pang in the stomach. Strange…or maybe it just hasn’t really hit me until now.

2014

December 22nd

Though I only arrived on island today, calmed by the hot climate and ocean smell, adjusting is already proving to be difficult. Perhaps the first day is always the hardest, but I was incredibly disappointed when I saw the place in which I would be living. Size wise it’s extremely suitable, if not quite spacious for such a tiny, expensive island. My problem is the cleanliness…or lack thereof. I spent 45 minutes scrubbing the bathroom, the tub, the toilet, the shower — each. I only got a small layer of filth off. I had to shower in my sandals.

Yesterday, prior to my leaving, my mother had stumbled upon very old home videos of when we first immigrated to Canada. We watched some of these low-quality takes, and I was hurt to see the sweetness and affections she had showed me — because I could not, for the life of me, remember them. Why are only the traumas and pains remembered? It is these moments, these affections and loves, that we need the most. And yet somehow, perhaps by my mind (that always tries to fool me), I cling to the negatives.

I feel often that my mind has tricked me into believing I have lived a particular life, when truly it has been quite different. A prime example being the home videos. My childhood seemed full of love (on camera at least), and I almost loathed myself for not remembering these moments. Emotions aren’t smart, even if we are. But the scariest part is this: if our mind is powerful enough to manipulate our memories to suit a belief that, for a reason I think we will never understand, hurts us or those around us, then perhaps reality doesn’t exist at all.

What if reality is an illusion? And all we are doing is living inside our own heads, and everything is our creation? After all, the world exists through so many, many eyes; some are beautiful and full of love, while others (I dread to entertain my own are like this) only want to cling tight to ill-heartiness. And how are we to know? Like a child who knows nothing else, what we see we think is normal — truths. And how uncomfortable the cognitive dissonance that we all, I hope to some degree, must face as we grow older. Maybe that’s why they call it a Journey — travels from within.

I often wonder why inner Journeys are far harder than outer Journeys. Trekking for hours in an extremely hot climate, for example, without water, proper footwear nor a direction in which to head, surely must be more difficult than, say, realizing that we may have been wrong all along…right?

It must be. Why isn’t it? It pains me that it pains me. What a paradox, and yet I find myself crying, night after night, purging some overwhelming emotion I cannot name, paining further at the confusion and misguidance. Am I lost? I ask myself. No, says my inner voice. You are growing.

I resent those who claim suffering to be mental illness. We are all ill then, for we all struggle with whatever it is we struggle with, and it is always within the mind and the soul. Labeling it doesn’t make it easier, nor justifies not doing something about it.

I’m not quite sure when I realized I was going in the right direction, but I remember feeling a weird sense of fearful excitement. I always wanted this, to move away and start a new life on some tiny island somewhere. Yet as I whispered to the Universe, feeling slightly silly as I did so, I trust you, please take good care of me, somewhere, in an unknown place, I felt — or chose to feel — that it heard me.

And off I went, packing painfully as a part of me didn’t want to go. I’m not afraid of change, at least not consciously. I had barely slept the night of my flight — drenched in sweat and shivering. I know my ill nerves, but they were accompanied by something else I can’t quite place. It was almost as if I was happy I was doing this to myself, despite the fact I was trembling and near vomiting.

Being in a new place also adds volume to my thoughts. They are so obvious to me now, I can’t imagine how I didn’t recognize their cynicism before. Just now, before changing the used sheets to (thank goodness) my own that I had brought, I had walked three doors over to a French colleague (we had met previously) that I took a great liking to. As I handed her the cheesy souvenir gift I bought as a thank you for her help, I recognized suddenly something telling me I was trying too hard to be liked. ‘But I’m not’ I told this stranger in my head. ‘I am grateful.’

Why are our thoughts always against us? Is this the good vs. evil people talk about? I always believed I was good — at least that’s the wolf I try to feed more. How does this negativity survive? Though I must admit it has become less and less over the years. I’m not sure how, or why, but nevertheless I’m glad for it. It can be quite exhausting, arguing with yourself when you’re trying to listen to someone else speak. I’m sorry, what was that? you smile to them, pretending you didn’t hear, when really your mind was too busy arguing with itself to pay any attention (pay no mind). And after the speaker repeats themselves, your response seems forced, almost like a compensation for missing it the first time. At least, that’s what the stranger tells you. This stranger is unwelcome.

Those at my new place of work seem like an absolute delight. I was quite surprised when unknown faces recognized me, some even by name. You! Welcome back! they would greet. And how big the smile on my face was. Wow, I thought to myself. I am worth remembering. What a beautiful feeling. But of course, a long train of thought begins where I question why I feel so worthless at all. A silent comparison begins. Well you are nice to everyone, says the good side.

So what? says the bad. Just because you are polite doesn’t mean you are worthy.

I wonder if I will ever be able to get out of this debate, and perhaps watch it from afar, hopefully with slight laughter, if not complete cackling. Maybe it’s all child’s play, and I am too deep to see that. Maybe my tears are wasted, I cannot see the bigger picture. I am desperately trying to discover something that needs to be discovered, but I don’t know what that is. It’s like wandering aimlessly through a forest, looking for a specific tree, when you don’t know what it looks like nor in which vague area it lies. One thing I do know: when I see it, I will recognize it. In other words, I just have to go from tree to tree until I find the one I’m looking for. And what a big forest. I’ve been wandering for years.

December 25th

Quite a busy day at work. As people book excursions or rent equipment, I am taken back to the times when I, myself, was on the other side of the counter, excited to explore the ocean at every possible opportunity. Now behind it, I see how everything works. Of course, some of the romanticism is lost, for it’s truly not as glamorous as it may seem, but nonetheless I am not disappointed.

It’s also quite strange to hear Christmas songs, and see sparkling decorations, unaccompanied by the cold of winter and the bright of snow. Not my first Christmas in a warm place, but my first without a return ticket.

It’s interesting to fathom the many lives, however different or distant, that cross our paths and yet never again.

How many varying dreams and ambitions, many of which have not been met, most of which have been given up on, and yet fundamentally as human beings we seek (I would say ultimately) the same things: tranquility – whatever that may mean; inner peace, the likes of which are seldom achieved; love, something usually lacking I believe for most of us. If not, perhaps I inflate my hope that I am not the only one starved of it. If history is any indication, I am usually quite blind to the love I do receive…somehow I still feel unloved.

And yet, day after day, our lives, however remotely, touch in some way, whose importance we will probably never understand (if at all we realize an importance exists). It’s quite unfamiliar, this acknowledgment, yet I can do nothing but baffle at it. Could it be too grand a thing to understand? Perhaps thine heart is too primitive, but I suppose I won’t ever really know.

December 30th

The New Year slowly approaches, and yet nothing but sleep and rest are on my mind. Time has slipped, and I slave away working at a company that (not until my arrival) I learned isn’t up to the standards of management, safety and accommodation. It’s an experience nonetheless, and I must admit that watching the sunset as I finish work does lift my mood quite a bit. It’s a subtle reminder that I am in a good place, at least my heart thinks so.

New Year’s Eve

I never understood what it was like to have a deepened inner peace until tonight.

I was always afraid of being alone, especially when the New Year was to be met with smiles, clinking champagne glasses and a company of great people. But as I reflect, I realize that a celebration doesn’t need to be accompanied by heaps of people, or even a romantic partner. I have my health, my wisdom (or so I think), and a calm Energy that I have never seen so at peace. Maybe it’s the ocean, but nevertheless, on this evening on the last day of the 2014th year, everything is still. So as the dancing flames of the beach torches glow on the rippling water, I sit alone, dining, to celebrate only with myself the