Weather says a lot. Even if we cannot control it, we can choose to love it, worship it, or throw our middle fingers at it and scream. That and we can choose to uproot ourselves. Whether for a week, a month, a year, or a lifetime, we can walk out the front door with or without a suitcase and leave. We don’t even have to say goodbye.
And what about the type of weather someone chooses to live in? It’s true that some people never give this much thought, after all if you’re born in the Chihuahuan Desert and never leave, days are almost always sunny. For native Greenlanders, the same concept: get born in snow and ice, live in snow and ice. Of course a lot of people don’t have the option of just picking up and changing climates, but for those who do, what then? If they remain for years in snow, sleet, or driving rain, what does their weather say about them? I say “their” because we all make choices, and if we have the ability to leave and don’t, does the weather becomes “ours,” the clouds, the snow, the hailstorms, or for those who don’t love it, the sun?
I say that it does. Here in North America, where millions of people dream nightly of a tropical vacation, one could make the argument that we have “become” our dreary clouds and driving rain. We have become our blizzards in Chicago. We have become the slow, steady western Oregon drizzle. We may still harbor dreams of kicking back beneath a palm tree, but yet we stay. Why? Why the hell do we stay?
Some people might tell you that they stay because they have to. You know, it’s the job, the fam, the goddamn partnership track, the kids’ soccer games, etc., etc., etc. I think people stick around because they’re lazy. Above all, it’s laziness, laziness and fear, because change can be hard. It can freak a vato out. We can scare ourselves out of it, and we do, often. Of course it’s true that gorgeous sunlight is not for everyone, and there are those who adore the snow in Boston and those who can’t wait for summer to end in the Pacific Northwest so the rains can start again. They are out there; I know some.
I am not one of these people. The sight of this wagon does not excite me (it’s true, I’m 45 years old and not likely to play with it, but because it isn’t sunny, I’m certainly not going to play with it today!) Personally, I need sunshine. I know some of you do, too, perhaps more than you know. Freezing weather and darkness make me unhappy. They make me tired. The colder temperatures hurt my joints. The whole thing fucks with my libido. No kidding. So, does this mean I’m claiming this western Oregon pall? I think not! Quite the opposite: I am in the process of leaving. I claim this shit no longer! If I’m owning anything, it’s the change, because this time it’s exciting!
To me, why would a semi-rational guy stare at the moistened wagon every day when winter could provide him this instead?
To me, the answer is clear. You will have to decide for yourself if it is clear for you. It may be a question of timing, or money, or any number of things, but I say when the spirit calls you, go South, hijo de tu chingada! Go South.
For us, as for many of you, this may be a process. First, decide on your priorities (tequila, beach, sex, chile, sex, some oral, a little bit of gainful work perhaps, sex, tequila, mezcal, a couple beers) and go from there. Take reconnaissance missions. Visit different places. Stay there for a while, and see if you can picture yourself there.
Dude, I pictured myself there long ago. Now, the dream takes form, and what a gorgeous dream it will be! Stay tuned…