This week I want to thank everyone who has believed in me.
I continue to believe that a journey is among the most profound life practices. Even though I’ve faced incredible challenges lately, many of those challenges have to do with the wonderful places and people in my life. I never would have found any of them if I hadn’t set off to leave home.
And although the road ahead looks hard, I’m in a better place for it than I’ve ever been. I did a 20-mile test ride of the newly configured Giant this week, fully loaded with gear, and it was a joy. The nights will be chilly now, but the days will also be cooler and easier to handle. This adventurer will survive.
My career is also changing. I’m speaking at the Hero Round Table in November, presenting my words for the first time to serious professionals in a variety of fields who want to understand and promote heroism. The discussion of heroism today almost never considers the hero’s journey as a real, traveling journey, and I think I have something novel and important to offer. A journey is a practice that can change many lives, and we should make journeying accessible as part of fostering heroism.
On a personal note, my journey has indeed taught me my purpose in life, or at least my art. I’ve always enjoyed writing and I’m not bad at it, but only during my journey did I realize that it is my medium. And that my goals with that medium are far more than just making a living on the road: I am a philosopher at heart, and I want my writing to contribute something meaningful and lasting to the world.
So I’m working on a new book about the philosophy of adventure. Many of you have been asking me for two years to write a book about adventure, but I always shied away. A “how to” with a list of gear to take just seems too commercial, too basic. But now that I’ve lived it, and am going through the pain of leaving all over again, I know what needs to be said.
Heart of Adventure was originally written as a collection of pithy aphorisms, painting a picture of what it means to adventure through hints and metaphors. This spoke to the adventurers who read it, but not to the non-adventurers. I’m currently revising it to use an unusual format: each pithy aphorism is paired with one short essay, giving a clear picture of exactly what it means to undertake adventure as a practice.
I’m hoping that I will have copies available in time for the Hero Round Table, but that’s unlikely. Making sure my talk is good is the top priority—if need be, the book can wait.
This is in addition to Lúnasa Days, which finally has an ISBN number after many struggles, and continues to trip its way through the formatting and publishing process.
Through all of this, Rogue Priest has been my life line to the world. Not just a place to test my ideas, but also a place where I know somebody, somewhere, cares. Almost all of you reading this are strangers to me, but I don’t think you know just exactly how much it means that hundreds of people a day come and read about my journey and my ridiculous ideas for following the great heroes.
Thank you, everyone, for caring.