Choose to live.

“Just choose one, Moseman…both will you lead you somewhere”. At a crossroads where I don’t have a legal permit to be, only 2 buses passing a day, 1 liter of water remaining, eating emergency food rations, and extended time at that altitude was causing horrendous physical effects, I was predicting my demise…you don’t have time to sit at a crossroads examining the paths to see which seems to show a history of more travel or kicking dirt around trying to forsee what will be at the end of each road. It’s not about the path we choose in life, it’s about making a choice and then cycling through with conviction, passion, dedication, free thought, and open heart. It’s not what route you choose that matters, it’s how you live through the journey that you felt was the “right”one at that moment. People say they are “lost”, no, they aren’t…they have chosen not to choose…they haven’t yet begun their journey. How can you be lost in life when you aren’t even living? This ain’t the gospel…just the inner-ramblings of a long-distance-lunatic-cyclist on a saga with skies in the eyes and a fiery heart that rules my journey.

Eleanor Moseman is a photographer and storyteller that cycled solo around Asia and Tibet.

Guess what ya’ll?! I’ve decided to hunker down in late winter/early spring to write the book. Yes…it’s ready to be spilled and chapters written that never graced this blog.

Mercy

Hours spent sitting along the banks of Namucuo, the highest alpine lake on Earth, watching the current bring the most crystal clear water to my feet. Complete silence except for a single heartbeat, the pulsing of my own blood, and the water gently rolling and crashing to accompany the beat of my own rhythm. No one around for as far as eyes could see, small schools of fish coming to the surface, massive black ravens along the bank tending to themselves, and thousands of insects silently skimming across the lake. The waters and skies merging into one along the horizon, unable to differentiate between earth and the heavens. We are one and at the mercy of it all.

Lake Namu in Tibet Autonomous Region and photographed by Eleanor Moseman.

Lake Namu in Tibet Autonomous Region

A Revolution

Modern day society has no place for those of us who have no desire to be leaders and refuse to be simply led. There are a few places left on this earth that allows us curious wanderers and rejects of the world to be free and live anonymously to learn and develop our true self and accept one’s purest form of identity. We can only have one perfect relationship in life, and that’s with ourself, once we’ve learn to accept and love all our imperfections. Not enough love in the world these days, folks…to all my fellow loners, misfits, and dreamers…it’s time for a revolution of consciousness.
wandercyclist_5184

I turned 35 last month…I started my journey a month shy of being 31, as I was still 30…which is also a very special year.

Taken from http://thezodiac.com/jungnutshell.htm

Second Half Of The Journey
Then, around the age of 35, we slowly begin experiencing a subtle, but nagging sense of restlessness and unease. By now, our psychic basements, that Jung called “the shadow,” are stuffed pretty full and the contents of our neglected basements are now starting to demand a wee bit of our attention.

If we continue ignoring the pleas of our psychic basements – then, our basements have a tendency to get musty and nasty.

So then, between the ages of 35-45, we typically experience what’s called the “midlife crisis.” Symptoms of the midlife crisis are that we have grown tired, listless, and restless. We wonder if “this” is all that life is about.

If all goes well (and that’s a big if) during our midlife crisis, we then spend the rest of our lives on a new journey of “growing down” and reclaiming all the valuable stuff that we’d previously hidden away in the deepest part of our psychic basements.

Jung: “When the king grows old and needs renewing, a kind of planetary bath is instituted – a bath into which all the planets pour their ‘influences.’ This expresses the idea that the ‘dominant,’ grown feeble with age, needs the support and influence of those subsidiary lights to fortify and renew it.” from the “Mysterium Coniuntionis” CW 14, C.G. Jung

Yep! “The soul is its own source of unfolding.” It really is simple, you know.

Also from Heraclitus: “You will not find the boundaries of soul by traveling in any direction, so deep is the measure of it.”

Look at this Old Maid

It’s been awhile since I’ve treated you with one of my rants…so here we go.

So, I usually lie about my age. Especially in Central Asia where people marry younger and begin having their dozen children at a much younger age than in China.

I’m 26. Sometimes I’m honest, it really depends on who I’m speaking with. I’m a 26 year old English teacher.

But, when the passport is exposed…well…that’s when shit breaks loose.

I’ve been warned of the police in Uzbekistan but haven’t had anything more than friendliness, pats on the back, and “are you married”/”where’s your friend?”/etc…but the first question usually is…”Do you have a baby?”

I always laugh and make body language that I can’t ride a bike being pregnant. And where am I going to put my baby? Or, in Central Asia, my BABIES?!

Having a friend and having a baby are both very sensitive topics for me right now…and well, it’s ALWAYS DISCUSSED.

NO! I HAVE NO FRIENDS!!! I’m alone…what’s the big effin deal?! Get over it.

Why is it a sensitive topic?

Well, shit…maybe I would enjoy company but I don’t have it. At nearly 22,000km…I’m growing weary of my thoughts and entertainment. I wonder what I was thinking about 2 years ago at 2000km. Hmmmm, I’ll have to go figure that one out. I was probably trying to figure out what the hell I was doing on a bike in the middle of China with no idea what the hell I was doing.

NO! I HAVE NO BABIES!!! I don’t want babies, I don’t need babies…I’m an old maid. Get over it.

Why is this a sensitive topic?

Because I’m GAWD DAMN TIRED OF IT!!! Get off my 33 year old, free livin’, life lovin’, shit stirrin’ ass, already! I’m tired of it. Society everywhere wants women to settle down and birth. Little girls are given dolls to play with so we can be good mommies. Social conditioning?

Maybe this is a reason for all the mental health issues, such as depression. People have let society convince them that have to have kids, but somewhere in their soul, it wasn’t right for them. But they didn’t realize they had a choice to choose.

I love kids, don’t get me wrong. But I’m allowed to choose what kind of life I want and I choose to be a selfish old maid. You chose to have kids, I’ve chosen not to.

Yeah, times a tickin’ and if I don’t get on it (um, literally speaking I suppose) I guess everything will shrivel up and die.

People give me weird looks when I respond with, “There is always adoption.”

Before I get a shit storm of emails about how I offend you or whatever you want to say. Let me first state, very frankly…that I have medical issues dealing with my reproductive organs. I don’t even know if I can have kids. So why set myself up for disappointment?

Also, I just don’t have the money to support another life. I live on $2/day…a kid is going to cost a lot more than that.

Who’s going to take care of me when I’m old? Well, thanks for asking…Japan’s robot technology is just for this reason. They have a growing problem of not enough people to take care of the elderly. So, instead of paying for a college tuition, I’ll buy my own personal robot.

So at the Bridge games my friends can say, “I have 10 grandchildren.”

“I have a robot.”

Back to the story at hand…

So, the last police checkpoint as I’m headed into Bukhara.

I’m waved over and asked to see my Passport.

“Excuse me madame, passport? Where are you from?”

“America.”

“Ohhhh USA?!” (Not a lot of Americans visit this part of the world…tons of Europeans though)

As he examines my passport he shouts to the other guard at the booth about how I am American. He walks over.

“Friend?” Number 2 hand sign.

“No.” Number 1 hand sign.

Body language of shrugging shoulders with a “why” expression?

“No friends” – spoken in Russian.

Then I watch the first one point to my birth year on my passport, the others eyes follow his finger. They both look up at me.

“Baby?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Tourist, no baby.” – spoken in Russian

Then they all take turns giving me hand signals of how many children they each have. It’s a whole production. Well, congratu-fuckin-lations. Can I go now?

“Husband?”

“Yes, in America.”

Body language and a few word of why he isn’t here.

“No time.”

Okay, enough with the interview Coppers, let me get on with this already. Why…oh why…do you spend my time asking me these questions?

—-

Uzbekistan, near Aydar Lake, close to 43 degrees Celsius, and just hitting 21,000km. Where would I put my baby?

Maybe in here?

I’m still just lil’ ol’ me.

65km East of Almaty, Kazakhstan

I was talking to one of my penpals today, Eddie. No, not the infamous Ed who used to leave comments here, by the way, where the hell did he go?

Anyways. Eddie and I have become pals via the interwebs. We both have been expats and cycled our lunatic selves around Asia, including Tibet.

So, yes, back to the story.

We are talking about something, I believe dealing with the opposite sex, and a fear of talking to guys. Eddie insinuates like I don’t have any problems and my ego is beyond healthy.

Brakes!

No, let me state it’s far from the truth.

Example. I went to a dinner party here in Almaty with my host. I had a half dozen people surrounding me, asking me questions, telling me how impressed they were. I could feel my face turning red, hot, and you should of seen my arm pit stains from sweating. Christ, I was so scared of dropping my wine glass from the wet hands.

So, as you can see…I still get terribly nervous when there is a lot of attention on me. Especially focused attention.

Example. I get bummed when people don’t return my emails. It’s my only contact with the real world. If you are one of people I write to…well, there is a reason I write to you. Maybe I admire you, or think you are cute, or just an all around awesome dude, or think you are fun to shoot the shit with.

I never started this tour to prove or show anything to anyone. It was strictly for me. For my career. For photography. To have people say some of the things they do, and the fan mail. Well, it’s amazing…it feels good…but at the end of the day…I am still just a small town American girl.

Insecurities. Hell, of course. And I get to face them head on everyday and think about them until I knock out in my sleep.

Wondering if my male counterpart exists. If anyone can love me, all my flaws and imperfections included. If I am love’able…maybe I’m too much of a risk for anyone to want to involve themselves with. Am I too difficult, as I was nicknamed “Princess Impossible” nearly 10 years ago. If I’m a good daughter, a good friend. Questioning my intelligence or things I should say or do instead. If I’m sane…or emotionally stable. Will I ever be financially stable? How my photographs compare to those I admire…will I ever be where I want to be in my career. Damn it, am I good enough?

Example. I get lonely.

Example. All I want right now is a hug. Not too much to ask for, right? And a hug NOT from some random Kazakh sex pest.

Example. I fall asleep at night worrying over my future.

My ego has gotten bigger in the sense that I know I can take care of myself. That I can get myself out of life threatening situations. I can solve problems quickly and efficiently. But, I do have the same issues, personally, as every single one of you.

Going to give a ride over the Assey Plateau…one more try. Goodnight.

I would love to hear from you!