Mystery Man

As I was strolling home from my philosophy tutorial on Monday, my head swirling with new ideas and questions, my thoughts were interrupted by what looked like a student - unshaven, tall, dark, and handsome (I'm not gay, shut up.  Strictly descriptive.) He had a large pack on his back and a guitar in his left hand.  I thought, "looks like someone probably had an exciting weekend tramp." I turned my head the other way to walk past (the typical American way) when I heard him speak out, "Excuse me, can you tell me where Dunedin is?"

I was a bit dumb-stricken, because Dunedin is another city, easily a seven hour drive from Christchurch.  After a few seconds of confusion and bewilderment accompanied by a blank stare on my part, I gathered my directional sense, chuckled a little and said, "Umm... yeah.  That way." as I pointed over what mid-westerners would call mountains, but are just big hills.  Naturally intrigued, I was about to question him and ask if he needed anything else, but before I could say anything he flashed a gentle grin, said "Sweet. Thanks.", and took off.  I watched him as he strolled away - he looked like a little boy walking home from his first day of summer camp with his oversized backpack, his guitar, and a little skip in his step. 

I began to analyze this mysterious man.  I was too befuddled at the time to notice any strange accent, so I'm not quite sure where his origins lie.  He must not be a native, considering the circumstances.  He was companionless, easy going and carefree.  I couldn't quite tell if this was the beginning, middle, or end of a journey for him, because the genuine content in his face could have suggested any of the three.  He carried what I assumed are bare life necessities on his back (e.g., clothes, food, sleeping bag, etc...), but also an unnecessary, but a great time-passer and one of mankind's most pleasurable tools - a guitar.

I admired the freedom this man possessed: freedom from standards, freedom from convention, freedom from schedules, freedom from direction.  I began to wonder why more people, including myself, aren't like this.? I'd burn my calendar, but then  I wouldn't know what's going to happen.  I'd sell my computer, but then I couldn't check my email.  I'd toss out my phone, but then I couldn't make all those important calls.  I'd pack up my ipod, but then I couldn't drown out unwanted surroundings.  I'd give away my suits, but then I couldn't appear socially acceptable for formal occasions.  

I'd put bare essentials in a bag and take to the hills, but then... then... then what...?

Like in anything in life, I believe there is a lesson to be had here.  In a world where more and more is explained daily by science, there is a dwindling amount of natural wonders.  Where did all those stars come from?  How did that mountain get there? How deep is the ocean, how high the sky? Why do I have senses at all, and how do they work? Most big questions can be answered, and if not now, will most likely be in the future closer to the present than not.  What is there left to be curious about? What this man was doing, and what should be noted as the premise for this blog, is creating uncertainty for himself.  No one can be certain about the future, and if you don't go to great lengths (which we're all guilty of) to plan, prepare, and map it out, there's an uncertainty there - the natural attraction that man has with curiosity.  Curiosity is what drives us. 

I'll end with a quote by Graham swift in his novel "Waterland". 

"Children, be curious.  Nothing is worse (I know it) than when curiosity stops.  Nothing is more repressive than the repression of curiosity.  Curiosity begets love.  It weds us to the world.  It's part of our perverse, madcap love for this impossible planet we inhabit.  People die when curiosity goes.  People have to find out, people have to know.  How can there be any true revolution till we know what we're made of?"