For the Price of an Eye

Voltaire
Doubt is not a pleasant mental state but certainty is a ridiculous one.

Odin, the All-Father of the Norse gods had a thirst for knowledge like no other. The lengths to which he would go for information, for wisdom was insatiable. Some say that he knew an unbelievable amount except he still searched, explored and uncovered. For, in truth, the stories and the story-tellers say, that what he was really looking for, more than anything else, was for the signs of the coming of Ragnarok, the Scandinavian end of days. Odin the All-Father wanted to be ready, prepared for the final battle that was to commence. He knew it would come. He knew that there, he and his kind would die. But he didn't know when.

He had walked all over Midgard, what they would call Earth and travel through the mountains of the dwarves and giants and read every script he would find. He walked all the way to Ygdrassil, the World Tree and ate from its bark. He hung himself on a tree and remained dead for a fortnight in order to know what the dead know. He took the severed head of Mimir, an advisor of his and dipped this in the well of knowledge and Mimir's head came to life. He would whisper secrets to the All-Father yet still, Odin did not know when Ragnarok would come. He would keep Mimir's severed head in a leather bag and bring it with him always, to consult, to wait for the whispers, that maybe, at one point, it would be said. The secret revealed. Yet it did not come. Odin ripped out his right eye and threw this into the heavens as payment for knowledge and knowledge he did receive but still he did not know when Ragnarok would come. Later, he would travel to the lands of the dead and speak to the Cybil. It was then she gave her frightening retelling of what has yet to come and when. And when the oracle did, Odin had discovered it was too late. He had already set in motion events that would bring the coming of Ragnarok.

The end of days for the gods of Asgard were near.

I marvel at athletes. At such a young age, some of them knew that this was what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives: playing the game, challenging themselves, working hard day in and day out to be the best. The sport, that is their whole life, there is nothing else. They wake up early and train. They eat lunch and then go back to training. Sometimes they watch other sportmen and learn from them. They go out and have fun with their friends, maybe, sometimes, not very often. But at the end of the day, the last thought before they go to sleep is the game, the sport, the challenge. Their whole life is spent being the best they can be at that specific thing. There is nothing else.

I marvel at people who can do the corporate life. Not marvel, maybe, but there is a great deal of respect and admiration that I have for people who can do that, day-in and day-out. Wake up at a particular time and go to work and be there early. Wear a sort of uniform: leather shoes, collared-shirt, slacks. Work the whole day inside an office, talk shop with your colleagues during your cigarette break. Leave at a particular time and get home and then the rest of your life transpires. It begins at the setting of the sun. The challenge is there, from 9 to 5. You have that challenge to be the best you can be within those 8 hours. And then it is done.

I can't do that. I don't have discipline. I don't have that sort of patience. I get itchy feet. I get claustraphobic and I feel cramped and I feel like I can't breathe. I have to keep moving around. I have to know that I can leave whenever I want. I can't ever feel bonded to one thing. I have to keep traveling.

And to do the same thing over and over for years on end. I can't do that. I feel great respect and admiration for people who retire and they receive their gold, extremely expensive watch from the company for having given 25 years, 30 years, 40 years to the company. I can't do that. I cannot do that. I have to keep jumping, finding something new. It's always got to be a new experience. If anything starts to feel routine, I get bored, I get stifled. I feel like I need to escape.

Of course, that means there is nothing stable in my life. Nothing. There are moments when there are a lot of projects and I'm busy with work and I have money to burn and I have lots of new experiences. And then there are moments when there is no work and I'm scrambling for money and I get depressed because I'm not working and yet, I rest, I relax and I try to enjoy the time given to me. I get to have new experiences on my terms and not because it was determined by my job.

There's this need to continue to gather as much experiences as I can, to learn and to grow; to have this complete full life and to be able to say that I did as much as I could during my time in life. I'm trying to cram in as many fulfilled lifetimes in the only one I've been given.

But sometimes, I wonder if it is all worth it, like now, with projects not coming through, things feel like they are crumbling around me. I wonder if I only kept at it, at a regular job, I wouldn't be having the problems I have now. I'd have this sense of stability. I'd be okay. I'd get by. But I don't think I could be happy. But I'm not all that happy now. My life is my own, but I also owe things now. It's not easy.

I feel like I'm standing on a cliff, right at this moment, looking at my hand. Do I have what it takes to fully commit to who I am? Do I have what it takes to make this bohemian lifestyle work for me? Do I have what it takes to reach in and pluck out one eye and throw it away to be able to see the whole world?