FICTION: “Seeing Time in a Straight Line Rather than in Cycles” by Enrico Belcore
Illustration by Maura Walsh / Black Nail Studio.
FICTION
Seeing Time in a Straight Line Rather Than in Cycles
By Enrico Belcore
Recently, I’ve been seeing the word ‘nomad’ popping out from any corner. People all around the world have gone nomad, apparently. And surly articles on the topic are not scanty. It just takes a quick research on the web to find dozens of companies using the term as part of their brand. But what does it even mean to be a nomad? Can we consider the 30-something-years-old expat in Bali, working remote jobs from a cocktail bar that only charges in US dollars a nomad? Are the 19 years old backpackers cluttering European hostels and moving from the bars of Berlin to the coffeeshops of Amsterdam nomads? Our conception of a life of travel, or even traveling in itself, have very much shifted. When I think of nomad life, I picture a group of people with nothing but a few leather bags crossing lands of rivers and blue ridge mountains. I think of men on cargo ships and communities moving through the continents on old sun-faded caravans. That’s nothing but a romantic view, after all, aren’t also seasonal workers nomads? And what about all those that move from one love to another, from skiing to pottery, from accounting to construction; is physical movement an essential requirement to the nomadic life?
Sometimes I like taking the 30L backpack I keep in the back closet and filling it up with everything I would carry with me if my house blasted into flames that same night. I see it as an exercise to keep my mind light. Seeing that everything can be boiled down to a few items puts things in perspective. It keeps doors open, if you will.
Perhaps we are in a new era of nomadism, one where the distinction between nomads and sedentary people is no more physical, but rather it concerns the way people think about life, regardless the way they act. I believe that the difference between a stationary lifestyle and movement can be tracked down to one single element: the way people see and organize time. Sedentary people see time in cycles. They build routines that repeat over and over again, facing the unknown through known structures. Meanwhile, nomads experience time in a straight line, where every experience is the direct product of the one before. In the nomad’s world things need to be different in order to evolve, as sticking to the same habits would make it impossible to move forward. Now, comparing the two, it feels a bit sad to notice how the sedentary man’s experience looks more convenient and, overall, a safer way to go through life. Why expose yourself to the unknown over and over again? Isn’t it easier to achieve your goals by using tested routines that grant a precise date for reaching your goals? Isn’t building an orderly process made of slow repeating actions? So why do we still have nomads, or better, why do we have nomads-like- thinking people?
I always felt at home when reading about world crossing trips. I would imagine myself packing two small cases on my old racing bike, the same I bought in London a few years ago for a bit over £50, and simply cycling from my yard to the city’s border. Then, instead of going towards the coast and eventually stopping for a coffee as I sometimes do on Sundays, I would head south and keep on going for weeks. There is something liberating about having to worry only about distances.
One time, I was walking in France. I can’t perfectly recall what I was doing there; I guess I was going through one of those nomad phases myself. I was following a certain trail along the French rivers, spending a few weeks just walking and sleeping in a light tent that I would pitch every sundown in the woods. Walking wasn’t hard, and my head wandered in every direction for the whole walk. I struggle to commit to long projects. I like having short adventures, doing one thing and then another. Changing jobs, careers, flats. It’s a bit like living multiple lives. Every period has its own people and its own fixations. But while walking, distances were the only thing catching my interest. How much can I cover today? Where to get water, where to get food? It was like everything else had just stopped existing, and I enjoyed it.
Could this be the reason why nomads travel? Perhaps traveling is not a characteristic of nomads, but just the result of their interpretation of reality. If we suppose they need novelty in order to proceed in life, it’s clear that the effort required for constant change isn’t sustainable in the long run. And here’s where traveling comes into play. It allows people to be in an in-between place, where you aren’t expected to put down roots and create routines, nor do you need to be worried about what you’ll be doing once reaching the destination, as you can just keep going.
Change is perhaps the primal addiction. It puts bad thoughts away, dodging difficult situations with a sudden change of habits. I’m starting to think that nomads are not that different from addicts. For most, changing the Saturday’s restaurant is enough. Others go so far as changing the furnitures’ disposition, doing big cleaning, perhaps getting new clothes from an online shop none of their friends know about. Addicts don’t stop where most people do. They need to go for another change of careers, then into freelancing, and then maybe into Bhutan for the year. Projection is my best friend. When I find myself doing the same, when my mind runs fast and the next goal becomes just a tiny drop in all the places, all the things I want to do, I get on my £50 Carton. I advise fellow projectors to get a bicycle, or find a coast to walk along. If something goes south at the crossroad, we’ll all understand.
Enrico Belcore is a freelance writer and translator based in Scotland; mostly deals with cultural journalism, eco-living, and alternative lifestyles. His portfolio site can be found here.
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