"Not a shred of evidence exists in favour of the idea that life is serious"
Oh no! Someone should have told me. Life not serious? Whatever shall I do?
But then, maybe I'll be okay. A long weekend in Vancouver was not about being serious, but rather, about seeing the lighter side of life. Of experiencing life at its less portentous best and more licentious most.
And we did.
Not take it seriously.
C.C. and I hit the road Friday afternoon beneath clear blue skies. Top down, music blaring we drove westward into the setting sun that would eventually capture us midway on our journey.
There is very little that can beat a fast car, great tunes, wind blowing and limitless sky above. With the top down, vision is unimpaired. The mountains loom closer. Velvet trees stand sentinel along their sides, marching purposefully up their crenellated ridges until they no longer find a foothold. Overcome by the sheer elevation they fall back, lose their momentum and give up ground to rocky crags and snow capped summits.
Driving fast, lakes lie deep and impenetrable. Their inky depths mysterious pools of frigid water. This is not a dipping time. This is holding fast to the road, tires spinning, wind whipping, exhilaration rising time. A time where time itself is not of the essence, the moment is the time, the essence of where we are.
In this time, thoughts evaporate upon the air. Conversation lifts off and finds a place somewhere else, in some place else, some other car, some other venue. In a top down, driving fast world there's no need for chatter. No space for words that are too limited to describe the sheer exhilaration of the drive.
Dusk was deepening into night when we stopped midway to the coast for dinner and a rest. A tiny, sleepy lake town. A patio. A glass of wine. A plate of nachos. Fresh air. Conversation humming all around us we relaxed into our environs letting the exigencies of the road slip away.
Morning broke. No rush. No gotta get there fast. Just a vehicle holding the road. Speed a by-product of the pavement unfolding before us with every turn, every twist of the road. Black asphalt leading westward. We followed the dark ribbon, curving and flowing with each turn, each new vista before us.
It was a weekend of laughter, friendship, food and wine and walking. We walked and walked. Talked and talked. People watched and watched some more.
Nothing serious. This is life.
A mud slide and road closure reworked our plans. Spontaneity over came the drive we headed for the southern route. Two days to wend our way back. No top down as rain fell from soggy grey clouds.
And still it was glorious. Windy, serpentine road over mountain passes, along crystal clear waters. A ferry across a river. A ferry across a lake. Mountains looming all around. Verdant valleys. Lush meadows strewn with wildflowers. Swollen rivers racing, racing to the sea, eagerly pushing out of its banks, searching for higher ground, grasping for another course, a different route.
Nothing serious. Conversations that wound around the winding road, looping back upon an idea, a thought, a snippet of a word that leads to another thought, another idea another look into something a little deeper, a different perspective.
Not serious. Revealing. Expanding. Enlightening.
It was a glorious five days. Living in the moment. Experiencing the moment unfolding. Embracing each moment evolving into the next.
I'm with Brendan Gill. There wasn't a shred of evidence to suggest it was a serious adventure. It was an adventure of a lifetime. An adventure of our lives entwining, running together on the road of life. Hugging a curve in the road, tires gripping the asphalt. Of laughter peeling off into the atmosphere. Exploring. Becoming intrigued by an idea, a thought, a look into each other's hearts.
This is life.
The question is: How much laughter is there in your day? How much living can you cram into a moment?