Monday, January 13, 2025, 3:18 pm
Distracted
I am currently reading The Alchemist for the first time, and I want to lay these thoughts down before the events in the book play out.
In the beginning, the young shepherd is looking forward to visiting a merchant’s daughter. The infatuation with this beauty is apparent, and he’s eager to further his relationship with the beautiful young woman. I can relate, because this is the focus of his adventure so far.
His reunion with his girl is near, when he is approached by an old man. At first, he is annoyed because he doesn’t want to be bothered from his current plan for his life. Yet the old man persists, reveals himself as a king, and calls the boy to a “hero’s journey” of sorts, to find the treasure he dreams of. The shepherd sells his sheep and answers the call, sailing on a ship for northern Africa.
Now, as I am currently reading this, he has just arrived at an oasis in the desert, nearly a year after leaving Spain. He is meeting interesting people, learning fascinating lessons, and... well, living life!
He thinks occasionally of the merchant’s daughter, wonders if she remembers him, if she’s married, if he will meet another who interests him as much as she does.
And this, is my distraction. My focal point. I am reading along cheering for this reunion... although it may never happen. Because this distraction IS my life.
Last year, at this time, life was a grand adventure. I was making decent money, living life—more or less—on my own terms. I really had no cares in the world... I was even looking forward to an overseas adventure.
In April, my “distraction” came along. And how! She awakened a portion of myself I didn’t know existed. Suddenly, I want to bring this woman into my world! And she wants to go!
Yet, her life is not so willing to allow her to adventure alongside me. As we explore the possibilities, familiarity sets in, and challenges. There is a cultural gap. And a generational one. And she has a two-year-old. None of these are a reason to scrub the grand tour...
Like me, however, she is an overthinker. What will her traditional Mexican parents say? Or even think? Who will care for her little girl while we are making our way? At this point fantasies abound... we’ll bring along her young sister, who will nanny for us. We’ll explore the world for a year... or more! Eventually settling to return near my young woman’s family. Eventually.
I relate to the shepherd’s desire to see his young woman, and think about his tour whisking him away from her without even saying goodbye, because I did the opposite. Calls to adventure that warmed my soul became calls to her that warmed my loins. Yes, we got to know each other. Yes, we even fell in love. Hard.
Then everything changed. My fantasies turn into a life with her. Raising a small family and living a fantastic life. The call to explore diminishing as I am consumed by her.
Yes, I think consumed is the correct term.
A wise man once told me, and many others since, that our women want to be part of the adventure—she wants to be swept up and come along. And that is exactly what happened. This woman was all in.
What I want was not so clearly defined. So, maybe “everything changed” is not the correct expression. Two things changed for certain.
When we fell in love, I didn’t want to lose her. I wanted HER on this adventure, damn it! When circumstances dictated that I couldn’t bring her along, I changed my plans.
As such, mine is no longer the soul she fell in love with. I have refused the hero’s journey. To be with a woman.
I know my tale is not original, yet perhaps it is a tragedy that should be. Although, maybe this is what draws us in to books like The Alchemist... because although he wants his girl, he chooses himself first. And answers the call. We all know what life looks like when we simply stay home.
Will he meet her again? Will I be disappointed if/when he doesn’t? As for my life, I know she wanted me—in ways no other woman ever has. Is our story finished? Is it even important to be wanted? Will I become some enlightened sage living in a cave in the Himalayas, because I can no longer relate to those who don’t seek enlightenment? Yet, oddly can’t relate to some who find enlightenment?
I guess, this is why I write...