In preparation for the Via, I find myself “crossing all my t’s and dotting all my i’s.”
What does that even mean?
I suppose over the past few weeks I’ve had to do everything from purchasing new backpacking gear, to creating an itinerary, to saying goodbye to friends and family, canceling subscriptions, making sure all payments are paid, formalizing my website, cleaning out living spaces, packing up all my stuff, and thinking to myself “this is the last xyz for the next three months, take an extra second to enjoy it.”
And that sparked the idea of Death upon Departure.
We’ve all heard of dead on arrival (DOA). But I HAVEN’T GONE ANYWHERE YET. In fact, quite the contrary: I’ve been very tethered, staying home a lot, trying not to move too much.
But this idea, DuP, popped into my head as I WAS MAKING A FINAL “TO-DO” LIST. And, upon looking around, I was also getting “replaced.”
My part-time job at lululemon…the store will go on without me? My parents found another dog-sitter? My studio space will find another tenant? My training partner will train solo? My camera jobs will be fulfilled by another photographer? My previous work will just get recycled and reused?
Life goes on…without me?
In Stoicism, I suppose it’s called Memento Mori. Maraṇasati in Buddhism. And, one of the OG quotes from Genesis: “You are dust, and to DUST YOU shall RETURN.”
The meditation of your own death.
Your funeral will be sad. But also a little awkward. Some people might even be inconvenienced and begrudgingly show up. People who haven’t seen each other for years will measure up. Some will get road rage on the way home. Others might look forward to the new episode of Love Island debuting that night.
Then your spouse will remarry. Your vocation will find a replacement. Your friends and family will move on. Your things will go to the lowest bidder.
Which can seem cynical at first. Or nihilistic. sAD.
However, I mean, is this not the best way for things to happen? In your absence, would you prefer for your loved ones, your work, your things just to like…never move on? To collapse without you? To unravel into nothing?
DuP Is on Your Own Terms
I suppose DOA is sudden, shocking, helpless. There is nothing you can do,
DBP is “yes. this is happening. I will prepare. I will be diligent. I will do what is needed to be done so my travels will be as unbounded as possible.”
It has been a beautiful process. Sometimes I HAVE TO REMIND MYSELF THAT I WILL, TOO, RETURN. So I DON’T NEED TO GO FULL “JUST SET IT ALL ON FIRE.”
But finding my things a nice home, leaving things better than the way I found them, and spending some quality time with friends and family seems like a good use of time.
IT’S A SENSE OF DETACHMENT THAT IS QUITE BEAUTIFUL. FOR MOST OF MY LIFE, I ONLY VIEWED SEPARATION AS A PRODUCT OF CONFLICT, UNFORSEEN CIRCUMSTANCES, OR WRONGDOING.
AND, VICE VERSA, TOGETHERNESS WAS VIEWED AS NOBLE, STRONG, AND VIRTUE.
HOWEVER, THOSE NO LONGER APPEAR TO BE MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE. SEPARATION IS A PART OF LIFE. CAN BE DONE CONSCIOUSLY AND GRACEFULLY. If left to its own devices, probably by the sword.
Togetherness can be done CONSCIOUSLY AND GRACEFULLY. Or it can be done by rust, bondage, and torture.
DUP, then, I suppose, can be a practice in conscious separation, The kind that prompts “missing,” the kind that gives enough distance to look at the full picture, the kind that makes it so exciting to return.
But only after you depart.