so i’m on my own. i’m taking on bali with just my backpack and my motorbike. and i never thought i would.
but one sunday breakfast changed that. i’m eating my eggs at kafe and some guy, brent from northern cali, asks if i mind sharing my seat. “ya dude, it’s all yours.” we get to talking about life, about travel, about fears. i don’t dig sharks, the jungle makes him nervous. by the end of the eggs and coffee, he’s playing devils advocate to my arguments about not being able to go off on my own. and even though he was talking, all i could hear was God.
“i will protect you. i have promised you that. promised. the question is: do you trust me?”
and with this trip, God is taking me farther and farther into what that means. i always thought going solo wasn’t possible. but i paid my bill, went back to the room and left. alone.
yesterday morning, as i was motorbiking away from a village at the base of a volcano, bob dylan was singing. mr. tambourine man.
“hey, mr. tambourine man, play a song for me
i’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
hey, mr. tambourine man, play a song for me
in the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you…”
i belted that straight out as i revved up a hill…i almost couldn’t make out the words i was smiling so big. shoot, life is good.
ya there are things to be afraid of being alone in bali. but there is so much good. in the form of God’s faithfulness, in the form of Bobby D….
and it is healthy to face your fears head-on. tomorrow i’m going scuba diving, for the first time, with a trustworthy-looking, experienced, Dutch diver. sharks scare the crap out of me and i might use half my tank of oxygen in one breath if i spot one. i’ll honestly have a heart-attack. but if i live through it, i can make up a new biggest fear and try to wrestle that one down too.
life is too short to be watched behind glass or from a backseat, and there will always be room to worry if things will go wrong or if bad things might happen. but there’s not a shot i’m going to be sitting in a rickety chair at 90 years old telling stories to my great-grandchildren about things i almost did, or could’ve done, or might have seen…
with much bali love,