Tethering yourself away from what you grew accustomed with could be the hardest and most impossible job to do, with the unwavering force of distraction holding us back like a deranged mother. It's an incalculable feat, perhaps a scary one, if we may add. Probably a misleading statement, but a very obvious one if we look closely. We are so scared to go away and look on the other side, always playing it safe because we are unsure of what might happen next. We often forget that it's a perpetually bound situation; no one knows what happens next. No one knew that single bullet through the Austrian Archduke's neck would be the most immediate cause of the war.
To be completely blunt, it shames me to belong in this generation. There is so much potential yet we choose to hide behind our fears and eventually fall to the fiery pits of forced conformity. Our choices scream mediocrity, and it's our fault. We question ourselves and each other so much we forget to pay attention and listen to what we want to say. We let what others say matter that it propels us to hide. When did we decide that a slight exposure to risks is an impossible duty?
To be completely blunt, it shames me to belong in this generation. There is so much potential yet we choose to hide behind our fears and eventually fall to the fiery pits of forced conformity. Our choices scream mediocrity, and it's our fault. We question ourselves and each other so much we forget to pay attention and listen to what we want to say. We let what others say matter that it propels us to hide. When did we decide that a slight exposure to risks is an impossible duty?
This is Robyn Davidson. She was twenty-seven when she went on a nine-month journey from Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean, a 1,700-mile trek across the Australian outback, along with four camels and a dog. National Geographic agreed to fund the expedition, in exchange for sending in a photographer to take pictures of the journey.
It's extremely an understatement if we were to categorize her as fearless. She's so much more than that: she's spirited, ferocious, and independently rapacious for new designs that she will use to provide for herself. She's her own hero, and that's that.
She was aware of the inevitable harm she will encounter while traveling, like dehydration and shortage of goods, but she went for the trip, anyway. What makes her so different from us was her appetite for the exploits the world around her will offer. Certainly the complete opposite of what our generation might choose to do. It's an unfortunate disposition, but I'm hoping for everyone's openness to the idea of adopting change.
What amazes me about this woman was her undying drive to embrace new ideas. Something once strange to her--like teaching herself the Pintjantjara, the local aboriginal dialect--would eventually turn to something so close to her it will begin to look as if she's had it within her all her life. Why can't we be more like her?
This movie, Tracks, tells the story about her trek. I found out out about her there, and I will be forever grateful for the opportunity of seeing it. It wasn't that cinematic, but I figured that she, in all her adventurous glory and beauty, is beyond the movie. Her story deserved to be adapted but caging her journey in that sense would negate the fall and the risks she bravely took. She suffered multiple hazards and romanticizing that kind of experience was an insult for her part. She even found the photos taken by National Geographic photographer, Rick Smolan, to be extremely offensive because it looked like it was his experience, not hers. She was furious at first, but eventually warmed up to the pictures. They were beautiful, but let's not forget the processes that had to be made in order for these photographs to reach our eyes.
Her self-reliance admired me, and it's a pleasure to know that she built the Camel Lady identity all by herself, greatly insisting that she is her own companion. Putting herself there without anyone's permission and not letting the scorn of the others stop her was another thing, dragging herself up without anyone's help. And this was all due to the unforgiving acceptance of what might happen in the future.
Why I'm relentlessly spitting out my adoration for this woman can be blamed to my previous plans of being a travel journalist for National Geographic. Before seeing the film, I actually had plans of being a National Geographic Magazine writer. It has been on my mind for so long now, but I only had the chance now of concluding that I really want it, alongside my other plans of writing film reviews for the New York Times. An ambitious feat, but I'm proud to say, finally, who knows?
I was reluctant at first, to establish this within myself, but reading her story made me change my mind as a dreamer. What am I so afraid of? Why does it matter? They're dreams; they had to be fed. I later on realized that repressing myself is not healthy, unless I want to stay where I was: completely lost, and self-loathing. It took me an impossibly long time to get over myself and just go out there. I had a falling out last year, and I guess it (partially) helped in my self-deprecation as a person (and as a writer). It was hell, but it was worth it, in all its tragic forms.
Seeing the film sends me the notion that this might be it. This might get me somewhere I don't know, and it's scary and exciting and downright risky. For the first time ever, I validated myself with my aspirations to become what I want to be, and its refreshing. Finally, something to look forward to. I'm not sure if I'll ever arrive at my desired destination, but who is, anyway? No one is sure, and that is a fact no one can alter. I've had enough people degrade me to something I'm not, and I guess this is where I begin to shut it off, and just live.
Robyn got to where she wanted to be, finishing the long walk, but the tracks she walked in and the dangers she encountered were the most remarkable of all. My life might take the same road as hers: tough and verging between dilemmas and insisting decisions. But that's what makes it important.
Sometimes empowering each other--and yourself, most importantly--can create something this beautiful and timeless. Embrace your inner weird. You're beautiful, and I think it's about time to shut off anyone who tells you otherwise. Your journey might not make it to the National Geographic Magazine (but then again, who knows?!) but what's more important is the way you managed it yourself, and how you climbed your way up.
Our generation is deemed to be the worst by everyone, and it's true. But this might change, if only we were more courageous.
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