me wo akete (Open your eyes)
Shadow moon (Shadow moon)
Mada yume wo miteru." (Still now done dreaming.)
Akeboshi
Going on a trip is the occasion to expand our horizon in a deliberate and controlled way. It's a paradoxical adventure in which getting lost is determined by how to trace your way back. So where is the appeal of such risk-free ventures?
Business as usual
In the grind of our modern life, we have come to realise that we do live extremely secure and regulated routines. There is a time for sleeping, having fun, working, leisuring, studying, experimenting, and even traveling. From the CEO of a major corporation to the brown-collar farmer, each individual seems to have a sound idea of what they want to do, when, who with and how. It's all about having a purpose, a goal, an objective that can be broken down in a series of stages.
And that's how we measure how accomplished we have become: so long as the tally keeps adding and crossing, we rise to new heights of self-satisfaction and pride. The flowchart is clear ahead, the milestones are clean cut, the accounts are all in order. The only thing that is driving everyone forward seems to be the race for the stamp of success and the papier mâché award.
Tokens of redemption
This is when the sky scrapers of vanity start to tumble down, while the pile of doubt sky rocket. The charts and the diagrams that use to mean everything suddenly appear vacant. A click of the mouse or a negligent splash of rain can, in an instant, destroy all records of busy-ness.
But who will be blamed, if not the system itself? Everybody carries the trophy, but nobody sheds the tears of downfall. Reality checks in on all, regardless of stature or status. So, when the space ahead looks full of roadblocks, the best is just to make up a new map. Traveling becomes the escape route into our own reflections, it swirls our focus back to the genesis of who we have become. As we dig into our own accounts of memories and lost aspirations, we buy ourselves some time to set the records straights.
And this is why we like to go on a holy day: the pilgrimage to the altar of our identity. This is not really an act of devotion and commiseration, it is more of a tribute to what is essential and meaningful. Here, the stakes are low, not because we mindlessly gamble with our time and our space, but simply because we know that there is nothing left to lose.
