A bundle of thoughts...

So Sam and I are on a journey, and one of my goals is to learn about myself and hopefully find something fulfilling I want to pursue. I think something I want out of life is to be known a little better... to that end:

March 19, 2016

I hate journaling. I like the idea of it and know that it would/will probably benefit me, 

but I hate actually doing it. Perhaps it is because I've needed to better condense, corral, distill 

and understand my thoughts for a long time. I need to do a little word vomiting. 

After all, I am going through an existential crisis.

I finished Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. I loved it, but was initially disappointed. 

I read it to be given an answer to my question of "What is the meaning of life?" Instead Frankl (I wish notepad had italics so that I could in a little way communicate my annoyance with the man) insists that while the question is an honest one, I am not the person to be asking it. In order for my life to have meaning it must be a meaning of my choosing. Instead of asking the question, I am to answer the question: "What is the meaning of my life?"

I believe I must've realized on some level that I must be the one answering the question, but I was still hoping there might have been an easier way. When people would ask me why I was excited to travel or what I wanted to learn or achieve the most honest answer I could ever give was to understand the why of different peoples. Essentially I wanted to pose the question Mr. Frankl directs at me to everyone I might meet so that I might better determine what I wanted my answer to be.

In exploring Reykjavik the last few days with Sam, we discovered a small photo gallery called Reykjavik Fotografi. It's on one of the main commercial streets within sight of the big landmark cathedral, the entrance is a decent step up over the threshold of a door that only open most of the way. Old analog cameras dangle in droves about the walls and when I asked Ari, the photographer, what camera he used to shoot his pictures he made a sweeping gesture to the room then went to the corner to flip the record in the player. I continued to inquire about some of the images that spoke to me more than others and learned that Ari has been capturing images of daily life in Reykjavik for decades. I was enthralled to discover that someone who liked a number of the things that I enjoy could seem to have found meaning in his art and in one place for such a long time; perhaps there is hope for me yet.

Despite my annoyance with having my question redirected Frankl became one of my favorite authors within five pages. His writing and experiences were daunting and honest and I have never heard any explanation of suffering and the experiences therein that I could more relate to than his. Which sounds a little naive and conceited because he went through the holocaust, but then perhaps I am naive and conceited. I am a rich cripple who hardly ever has to do anything he doesn't want to. 

It seems as though that might be amended here, not necessarily in Iceland, but on our trip. Three days in and three thousand miles away from the home that we left; we realized how poorly we had communicated our expectations and desires with one another. Yet again we have made some BIG life decision all while being on very different proverbial pages. I wanted to delve into everyday life and the why of people from different cultures and she wanted to do and see all the amazing things that all the world has to offer. I'd be content to stay, watch, tilt my head and tune my ear, learn to put my finger on the pulse of a few cultures even if that meant that I didn't see all or any of the sights. Sam's hopes were very different, perhaps that because she already has a good understanding of why. I think that maybe her meaning is to love her family, and so she wants to travel and see the world and enjoy all the exotic locales and foods and get back home to continue with her raison d'etre. I guess we

will just have to learn to be better at compromising and maybe communicating.