When I drive, often times it feels like an escape. Provided it’s a highway, my mind finds this sense of peace wherein it’s myself, the road, and the world. Driving home from Louisiana, that wasn’t always the case. When I was driving a van of 10 people, silent, sleeping, amid the nighttime “kathunk kathunk kathunk” of open road, my mind wandered to the past. Maybe it was the lack of music. Maybe the hardships we’d seen. Maybe, also, the lack of real scenery (nighttime can do that). However, it was brought on, I found my mind being pulled to things I’d sooner let go.
I try not to dwell on regrets, but for those driving stints, I kept thinking about things I had done I wish I hadn’t. Things I’d said. Friends I’d lost for certain action or inactions. I wouldn’t be writing you this, except for the thought which brought me back. It’s funny how experience changes a person. There are times in our lives when we are put in such straits that we find ourselves saying or doing things which later upset us, but we can only really see them after we have passed through the particular trial we were facing. There are also times in our lives, when our experiences moment by moment, change our behavior and our mindset. Refining us and honing us into ever better images of the self we are inside.
That’s really the core of this entry: It’s funny how the road works on you. It’s funny how experience, like Michaelangelo’s chisel, works away the pieces of excess material to reveal the work we are, ever present, never changing, but sometimes hidden.