Simple pleasures of life

 

I just finished reading Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, better known as the author of The Little Prince.  Wind, Sand and Stars is filled with his memories as a pilot in Africa.  He describes a life of adventure.  He enjoys the dangers of flying in a time when, as he put it, airplanes tended to fall apart in the sky.  He wrote many words on the idea of what it means to be living a life. To live is the point of being alive, and to live means more than waking up every day and simply going about a daily routine.  He felt sorry for people who didn’t struggle and fight for life, for those who didn’t sleep under a deep bed of stars alone on the desert floor, who didn’t know the sound of an airplane engine stuttering as it crossed tall mountain peaks.  He wanted the travail of life, the living of life.  I agree and yet I also love simple pleasures.

Recently my daughter, son in law and I crossed the country on a grand adventure.  We saw the Arch in St. Louis, attended a baseball game, drove through Kansas and Colorado, and backpacked for three days among the snow-capped peaks. This was, for me, grand adventure, living a life, and every bit as wonderful as it sounds.  But, another wonderful moment stands out, a simple one.  On the way back from this trip I spent a few nights at my dad’s house. One of those nights I strung up my hammock in his backyard, and slept under the stars, and under the leaves of the trees.  I listened to the neighbor’s rooster and to the strange call of their peacock.  I woke early, and ate dew covered blackberries just starting to warm from the sun.  Inside I shared a hot coffee with my dad.  This is the beauty of simple pleasure.

 

Saint Exupéry also enjoyed the simple pleasures.  He wrote long beautiful paragraphs about sitting alone on the top of a sand dune surveying the empty lands all around.  He described sitting under stars so plentiful he felt dizzy, and could feel the spinning of the earth through space.  I think all pleasures are simple ones.  It is when they become too complex, too involved, then they become manufactured and artificial, and at this point they are no longer pleasures.  Once we try too hard, the pleasure becomes the created moment.  The created moment isn’t real.  The stars are real, blackberries are real, simple pleasures are real.

Travel books

It is time to hit the road.  Adventure awaits, new experiences, new foods, and new trials.  The long straight road is a symbol of freedom and is also an inheritance from our ancestors as they crossed this country looking for better opportunities.  From pioneers looking for better farmland or hunting areas, to people fueled by gold dust fever, to youth looking to understand themselves better, the open road or the path west is in our blood.  Although many people enjoy relaxing vacations sitting by the pool or floating in a  crowded cruise ship, there are lots of folks wanting to simply move, see new places and experience whatever the rest of the world has to offer.  Travel books are the literature version of that need, that desire to just to and see.

The world is full of great travel books, opportunities to both enjoy the adventure and to see other places through new eyes.  I have never been to Africa, or most of South America, to Australia or to Europe, but through reading I have some ideas and feelings about these places.  One day I hope to experience other countries, but right now I can venture out all over our 50 states, and I can read about the adventures of others.  Travel books are as different as the people that write them, from John Steinbach to Tony Horowitz to Paul Theroux to Freya Stark.  I have read books about women biking across Mongolia, families taking a year off to see the world, men and women hiking long trails like the AT, and of men and a few women sailing around the world.  

If I were to write a travel book it would have to be from my own adventures, of course.  I have had the opportunities to drive across the country a couple of times, to camp in many of our states, to sleep in hammocks, tents, back of vans and a pop up camper.  On hiking trips I have met many brave souls out for their own version of living life to the fullest.  I want to write about these people as well.  Life is meant to be lived, experienced, suffered through and enjoyed.

Most readers have a favorite genre of books, whether they prefer literary works, mysteries or romance.  My favorite is of course travel.  I love all the types mentioned except romance, but every time I go to the library or bookstore I end up in the travel section.  A well written travel story can include all of the genre themes, as the reader learns about history, or revels in well written sentences, teaches a little about the mystery of the place, and maybe even can include a little romance.  Travel literature is life, with all the good and bad parts included.  

It is time to write a travel book.  It is always time to read travel books, and to get out and travel, but right now it is time to write.  Stay tuned, I hope I can do this.  

Last travel book I read was Land of Lost Borders, by Kate Harris, followed by a book on the Appalachian  Trail and a book on riding motorcycles across Europe and Asia.  I want to write as well as these people, to show the joy of travel, how hard it can be and what wonderful experiences and learning opportunities we can have.  Travel isn't always fun.  It can be hard, trying and exhausting, scary and just plain difficult.  I remember a backpacking trip so hard I wanted to cry, but so hard I was too tired to make the effort. Even so, now I think of that trip with fondness.  I am glad I went.

 If we are afraid of the rain, we will miss out on the wonderful experience of feeling raindrops on skin, cooling off after a long hot day.  If we are afraid of pain, discomfort or inconvenience, think of all that we will miss out on.  It is time to live.