Redshift

I've sent out quite a few lengthy Christmas eMails to my friends all over the world. And, fortunately, I got plenty of replies as well. It is a good way to stay in touch with more distant relatives, former classmates and acquaintances I haven't seen or heard from in a long time.

This year one theme was way more noticeable than before. People described their latest acquisitions, things they had bought or were going to buy. Either they have more money to blow than before - while always saying that there isn't enough of it - or because they need to fulfil a growing need deep within them. Or, perhaps, this is only a symptom of getting older and living a middle-aged life? I don't know and I won't ask them, either. This shopping mania is something I wish to avoid for myself and I hope that nobody else in my family falls victim to this loathsome disease.

Theme number two is everyday life. The job, the children, the house, the garden and the car. No big plans for the future, nothing spectacular or exciting, but rather the quiet kind of life in the slow lane. The fast lane guys don't have the time to write lengthy eMails anyway. I think the fast-lane guys are interesting and I enjoy talking to them very much, but it certainly is no way I would like to spend my life. And vice versa I have to assume.

All of this feels like an accelerating red shift between me and my friends or between me, a few like-minded souls and the world in general. People who belong to my subspecies are more and more hard to find or maybe it is just statistics taking their toll as we all get older. In quite a few instances my friends said that they wouldn't like to live the way Aurora Ulani, Liping & I do and sometimes I detect a hint of disapproval, as if I were being irresponsible. I get positive responses as well, of course, but they come mostly from those friends who are on similar tracks or at least wish they were.

The others don't really understand what makes me tick and I don't really understand what makes them tick. Of course, everybody agrees that one should live one's live in one's own fashion but that leaves us still with fewer and fewer topics we can talk about.

Or maybe... Maybe I am simply stuck in adolescence, at least mentally? Perhaps they have matured and they realize what's really important in life? Could be, but somehow I think that isn't it. Genetics, then? When reading a book about Captain James Cook (not his alter-ego Captain James T. Kirk) recently, I stumbled across that theory to explain his continued adventuring, even when he was already world-famous and had been offered a very respectable and cozy job in Greenwich. He simply couldn't stand life ashore and after only a few weeks he went off on his third and final voyage which brought about his death in Hawaii.

Who knows, maybe this restlessness isn't only an expression of ennui, but a real physiological need for some people. Or look at Captain Joshua Slocum. He went voyaging all his life until the age of 65 - which is when he disappeared at sea. Or Bernard Moitessier, who kept adventuring until he was 69 - and promptly died when he stopped.

All only conjecture, to be sure. The only thing we know for sure is that the majority of the people is quite content to stay where they grew up, except for a few field-trips, so to speak, and a comparatively small minority who must forever keep wandering.

I am not entirely sure whether this "Wanderlust" is a blessing or rather a curse. It's interesting, that's pretty certain, but does it lead to happiness? Captain Bligh, yet another one of my heroes, certainly wouldn't think so. And at least as far as the third voyage is concerned, Captain Cook could by no means be called a happy or content man. Anyway, I entertain more than a few doubts about this issue. What if this urge was nothing more than a special kind of OCD? No way to feel "normal" until the urge has been satisfied. And the satisfaction won't last, either.

But maybe there's hope for us maniacs yet. Hopefully one day we will have had our fill and enjoy the simple pleasures of tending to the garden, sitting at a little pond waiting for the fish to bite or in a rocking chair looking at the sunset. Maybe.....

And maybe then the redshift will slowly turn into a blueshift as we approach each other again. If there is enough time, that is.

How does Monty Python sing again? "Always look at the bright side of life..."