A couple of weeks ago, I saw this documentary on the TV. It showed an ancient hippie, still clinging to a bygone era, living a nomadic life in the confines of a cramped van, a fugitive from both the law and time itself.
It appears he’d accumulated quite the stack of speeding tickets, enough to draw the watchful eye of law enforcement. In his hour of need, he found himself in dire straits, in search of a thousand bucks and somewhere to spend the night in his van. Filled with desperation, he grabbed his cell phone and went through his list of contacts. As you might well imagine, the response was less than enthusiastic. One can’t help but wonder how many times he’d done this before, asking them for favors. It seemed like old hat to him, like it wasn’t the first time he’d done this sort of thing.
Defeated and disheartened, he stashed his phone away and retreated into his van, aiming to elude the pursuing law enforcement while continuing his chat with the television crew. In his youth, he explained, he’d harbored dreams of absolute freedom, a life of absolute pleasure, with little thought given to ever reaching old age. In fact, he’d scoffed at the notion of growing old, a sentiment not uncommon among the young and carefree.
But now, as the check came due for how he’s lead his life up to this point, the truth unveiled itself. He put on a façade, perhaps to shield his fragile pride, casually mentioning a plan to end it all – to avoid having to spend his few remaining years on this earth behind bars. Yet, beneath the bravado, one could clearly tell the regret for how he’d approached his life, realizing this was how it would come to its end. Unfortunately, I don’t quite know the name of the documentary or how it ended.
Anyways, one can’t help but speculate on the ending. Perhaps he spent the next few days or weeks in his trusty van, before finally getting pulled over by a cop.
I will say though, I get it. I get the allure of the nomadic lifestyle. Travel has a magnetic pull on our collective imagination, harkening back to a time when our species wandered the earth as hunter-gatherers. This deep-seated desire for exploration and adventure still simmers within us, and it’s no wonder that tales of wanderlust and journeys hold a special place in our hearts.
Yet, there’s a flip side to this wanderlust – the perils of extreme short-term thinking, exemplified by the hippie who prioritized immediate pleasures over long-term stability. It’s a cautionary tale that reminds us that life often demands a balance between seizing the moment and preparing for the future.
You know, I’d be willing to bet you that, when he was fleeing from the police in his van, he’d gladly trade places with one of his peers who took the slow path. And whilst it’s a bit too late to play the blame game, who is responsible for the situation he’s found himself in? At a certain point you can no longer blame parents, teachers, society, politicians, or a whole host of other reasons. Most of the responsibility lies with the man himself, especially considering he had more than enough time to do something about it.
Until about my early twenties, when I look back at my way of thinking, I often tended to blame politicians and the top 1% of society. And not even for any particular event in my life, but somehow I had this idea that everything would be better as long as those darn politicians and the top 1% would just cooperate, then everyone’s circumstances – including mine – would look better.
I’m not going to stop you from holding that opinion, but beware of one thing.
See, around my mid-twenties I realized that my way of thinking meant that I was waiting around, hoping for things to get better. And I realized that I might well continue waiting for a long, long time. My penny dropped when watching a YouTube video with a speaker who mainly preached some common sense. For instance: write down a list of what you actually want to achieve. Guess what’ll happen otherwise? You’ll always have a hundred vague desires, telling yourself you’ll get to ’em some time in the future. If it is on paper, you might actually get them done some day
Here’s another idea I picked up: you can teach yourself skills and knowledge which makes you more valuable – economically speaking. I could give a lot of examples for this, but one that immediately comes to mind is Eisenhower, who started as a teenager who had no idea what he wanted from his life, until he had gained so much knowledge and experience, in other words, became so valuable that he could take on just about any leadership position he wanted… and eventually became the President of the United States. It is a pattern that I often see recurring in the biographies I read and it is perhaps something that I will explore even more in future newsletters.
Anyways, as always, food for thought!
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet