The clinking and clanking of the spades and picks keep me in reality. They keep me from being completely absorbed by the fictional world I find myself relating to more than I should. They keep me alert but strangely satisfied too while ploughing through yet another riveting Wilbur Smith novel. Satisfied because the manual labour signals the start of an altogether new journey and adventure so to speak. The feeling of pride has flitted by sporadically in patches. But I think I cannot really breathe out and really feel real pride because there is still much to do. And this is a fault within myself I am working on, something I am very much aware of – to acknowledge and enjoy a present success. The whole adventure in life is always the journey, not the final place or destination, because life is happening right now, not in some future event or time.
My physical body and energy is torn between the hard slogging yards up in the mountains – the work that only I can do – understanding the lay of the land, marking the coveys, getting to grips with boundaries as well as ascertaining the populations of the birds. To being ‘at base’, overseeing any labour and or improvements that I have opted for, and making sure things go smoothly and according to ‘the plan’ (if a plan even exists at all). First world problems I think might be the term. But headaches to navigate nonetheless. Drifting in and out of reality like a canoe in a storm stricken ocean, the late Mr Smith’s riveting novel is what my life seems to be, and seems to need. The lines are blurry at times for the parallels are immensely relatable, and glaringly obvious too. To go at it and create your life, carve your very own place in the world, in the middle of seemingly nowhere, maintain relations with family members, juggle love interests, become who you are meant to be, grow, worry over finances and the means to complete certain tasks and or plans, and in my case, still make the time to train dogs. It is both physically and mentally taxing. And on and on the carousel goes. It all can get a bit overwhelming at times. But then again, there is always a price to pay for any degree of ambition and growth.
The main protagonist in the novel – Sean Courtney – is a trailblazer and battle hardened man’s man. I don’t know what it is, but many books I’ve read (and I get through quite a few) seem to find me at the exact right time in my life. The parallels to draw on and relate to are scarily accurate and you find aspects of yourself within each main character. I’m not sure if this is because I am desperately looking for something to relate to, or because the shoe really does fit – either way, I’ve grown tired of the blisters. This has now happened many times over to me. Sometimes I think there is more to it, other times I think it’s just a complete and utter coincidence. Either way, fiction or non, it is comforting to find both failure and success in the story the protagonist leads and lives. A good writer makes you feel like the characters are real, and thus you can relate to their very real human failures in their story.
One thing I have slowly grasped however, is that we are all wildly capable to do pretty much anything we want to set our minds to do. Even if it is something one would ordinarily write off as beyond one’s capabilities. Man can be a capable and nuanced beast if he so pleases, or he can be the ultimate force of his own destruction. And like Sean Courtney exploring and venturing into the hinterland, we all have a hinterland to explore and venture into – some have this literally and some have it metaphorically. I am currently living both the literal and figurative versions of this aspect simultaneously, and so this could very well contribute to where my head is at the moment.
One thing for sure is that the person waiting to greet me on the other end of this journey won’t be the same one I came to know and understand so well up until now.
Always chasing the horizon