Parallel Lives

Cross-Country Trip, Day 10

Memphis, TN to Nashville, TN

Arkansas and Tennessee are both very wooded, with trees hemming the highway.  The green forests of the East probably support a lot more life, but it's the West that I prefer, with its wide open spaces and huge rock mountains.  We did see quite a few large birds as we drove through Tennessee.  A hawk (could have been a sparrow hawk) dove down right in front of our truck (as we were going 70 miles an hour) and spread its wings, as it nabbed its prey in the strip of median separating the highway lanes.  Every so often, lone hawks circled above, and we managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a large one perched on a high branch of one of the pines lining the highway.   Even at 70 mph, it was easy to see its light tan chest and beautiful dark speckled wings.  

Marina and I played a little game to while away the drive.  It's called parallel lives.  What alternate career paths could we have taken?  I chose geologist, archaeologist, nuclear physicist, actor, comedian, entertainer . . . .  She chose airline pilot, engineer or detective.  It's like having the ingredients for a dish:  tomato, onion, cilantro, pepper, salt, and some random vegetables.  You could make so many different things from those basic ingredients -- depending on the spices you use, it could be Indian, Spanish, Russian, Italian.  That's how it is with people.  We have the same basic ingredients, but what makes us decide to pursue one path over another, to choose a respectable profession instead of the life of an artist, to become a plumber instead of a musician?  The desire to make a "good living."   For how long has "good living" meant money instead of soul satisfaction?  It's hard to choose the road less taken.  The encouragement and support of our families certainly helps.  But unless we have a burning desire to create, to live a life that's different from what's been chosen for us, it's much easier to go with the flow and do what the society we live in thinks is acceptable.  I guess these musing are remnants of the night before at Beale Street when I was inspired by the singer and the young dancer pursuing their passions.   But who can say what they are feeling?  Maybe the singer looks down on the crowd night after night, urging people to show love to the band by putting cash in the tip jar or buy their CDs, and maybe she thinks, "I'm so tired of this.  I wish I had gone into real estate instead."     

And now for something totally different.  Here's a little sound relief from all the writing.   (Thanks to my friend Parind for the tip on uploading audio.  He has a great website for all things travel:  Travel on the Dollar.)