The first few years of my twenties was spent in a pretty dark place. I had seen friends die or have their lives damaged by horrific accidents, I was suffering from chronic depression and anxiety, and was living with someone who couldn't handle or support how heavy I had become while juggling his own issues. In those circumstances, some people break down but I ran...to the other side of the world. For a long time I believed only the first part of that title sentence to be true.
One night I was in the hostel bar in Beijing with a bunch of people from everywhere in the world, and I had had more than my fair share of drinks. Someone I was sitting with started getting all metaphysical (as you might do after copious amounts of booze) and asked that age old question "What is the meaning of life?" I responded with "There is none." This brought on a ton of questions about God, purpose, the afterlife etc.... Then is old Dutch man pulled me aside and asked me what I was doing right now and what plans I had for the future. He told me that he very much agreed with me. There was no purpose to life, but I was failing to see the freedom in that. He asked me if I still felt rewarded for doing great things and hurt when I was upset. If I did, I should live selfishly, humanly, and find the rewards in life before I lost my emotions. It was a bit like a chapter out of a Paulo Cohelo novel. I look back now at that hazy, boozy night and that conversation is the only part I remember with any clarity.
It seems that lately, everyone I know is in a flux of change. People are moving across the country or world, traveling, having children, buying houses, losing weight, getting new jobs, getting married, finding themselves in a far, far away part of the Amazon.
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