The Case for Chaos as a Balm for Orderliness

Something I love about writing is how it warps and plays with time. For example, right about now I should be wandering into a small village called Shap on the cusp between the Lake District and the Yorkshire Dales. In my imagination it is pouring rain like in those medieval movies where a lone traveller seeks the golden, warm refuge of [checks itinerary] – The Kings Arms Inn. How fitting.

But truly, right now, in this present moment of writing, I am sprawled across the couch in my bedroom surrounded by utter chaos – pots, a tent, shampoo bottles, piles of clothes, and all the paraphernalia that S. carefully weighed last night to see if any precious grams could be removed. My coffee cup nestles on the table between innocuous objects that will soon keep me clean, entertained, and warm.

Yes, this is the voice of Brittany Past.

I am leaving tomorrow.

The chaos around me reflects my inner world. Swimming in the question mark of the looming unknown, I grasp at order and control – checking the weather of a place I have never been (hint: it looks like rain), trying to locate a mobile shop where I can get a SIM card in Edinburgh when I land, and attempting to decrypt the Scottish train schedules before I arrive.

I have learned from past travel experience that things make a lot more sense once you get there. Mysteries that plague your dreams for weeks can be solved in under a minute when you’re standing at a physical ticket booth. Take a breath, I tell myself. Chill out. Things will work out as they’re meant to. You’ll figure it out as you need to.

Yesterday, I was frustrated with myself. Not for the first time, and nor for the last. I’m used to having a life of orderliness, you see – sometimes of the dull, routine, variety. Like many of us, I have the kind of life where I can do most things on autopilot. I’m not used to the screeching thrill of not knowing.

It is true that I want adventure, but I am not fond of the stomach-swooping nervous energy that comes with adventure. I want certainty in my adventure, dammit! Inside certainty there must be calm. Inside certainty there must be clarity of mind and body and spirit. Right?

This is where I believe my grasping at orderliness is born.

However, in moments of actual clarity, I remember that where I’m going, I will be set free from this persistent need for orderliness. 

In fact, I believe the wide open air of chaos is a significant reason I want to travel the way I’m doing it. To try something new – to pass time differently, away from this laptop where I live. Away from the things I see every day, and the thoughts I think. When I frame the unknown in this way, I feel something relax in the very core of me. I see that this beautiful trip I have planned is in fact a bubble of freedom and exploration in the truest sense, just for me. 

What I have gifted myself is less of a hardcore challenge and more of a 16-day romp in nature.

I stumbled across a quote by Australian mountaineer Jon Muir yesterday amongst the rollercoaster of my thoughts and feelings. He writes: “I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out to the mountains and learn the news.”

I feel ya, Jon. As someone who tends to commit to a plan long before I fully understand why I’m drawn to it, this quote helped to express what I have not been able to. I so desperately want to hear the news – from the birds, and the trees, and the wind, and the inevitable rain. From my own mind and soul, where I know there are untapped crevices of wisdom and truth that I haven’t taken the time to unearth and consider.

A final unexpected gift dropped into my lap, thanks to the Instagram newsfeed I purport to hate so much.

It was a link to a New Yorker article that was published a year ago, titled “The Case Against Travel”. I initially assumed it was about how AirBnB is taking over entire cities, or that it was shedding light on the ecological impact of individual travel, or the privilege of it. 

Instead of paying to read it I scrolled through the comments on Facebook, and learned that the article is actually a critique of the kind of person who says they like to travel, when what they mean is they like to visit the same all-inclusive resort every year.

Like many of the commenters, I felt this attack was a bit petty and nose-snubby. Most of the commenters spoke fondly, dreamily, of the experiences they’ve had while traveling. What they learned about themselves, and how even small moments created huge ripples in their lives.

One commenter in particular shared a poem excerpt that spoke right to my soul. I want to share it as a final parting word before I descend upon the pile of objects that await me.

When you travel,
a new silence
goes with you,
And if you listen,
you will hear
what your heart would
love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing.
Make sure,
before you go,
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
might direct you towards
the territories of spirit
where you will discover
more of your hidden life;
And the urgencies
that deserve to claim you.

~JOHN O'DONOHUE

*Please note that I am taking a small break (ok, ok, I just ran out of time to write another piece in advance), so the next time you hear from me will be June 14th.

Thanks for tuning in! If you’re new here and want to read more, you can access the full Happenstance Casebook publication below.