Ever since I first saw The Mysterious Cities of Gold as a kid, I have long desired to visit Matchu Pitchu in Peru. These ruins call out to me in a way that I really can not convey. The voices seem loudest in my dreams.
In my dreams I can run.
It was the first place I thought of when I started to compile a list of places I must visit. The thought of walking among the remnants of this city helped fuel me to create a purpose: I would climb a mountain and visit the Temple of the Sun. I would ascend far above the horizon and shine on the grounds of a place that seemed magical to me. Not witchcraft magical, just so special that you can not even talk about it in concrete terms: magical.
In my dreams I can climb.
Naturally I started to investigate what it would take to get me there. I envisioned myself as a modern day Esteban adventuring nearly 500 years after he would have around those immaculate stone cut walls. But I quickly discovered that the amount of physical exertion required to visit Matchu Pitchu was far outside my ability, what with me basically having use of only one leg.
In my dreams I can jump.
After at least three days of trying to find a way to hedge myself into Matchu Pitchu though some way or means, I came to terms with the idea that I would not be able to make it to the single place I have desired to go the longest in my life. Well maybe not came to terms, as I still harbor a great deal of resentment over this fact, but I decided to plow on forgoing visiting Peru entirely. But I still stare longingly at pictures of it on my computer. I would be lying if this was not the website I have visited most often other than gmail and twitter in the past few weeks.
In my dreams I can ride a bike.
There is an overwhelming somberness, that I have yet to find the words to describe, of coming to terms that your body is incapable achieving what you want of it, of realizing that you can not train it to get better, discovering that it lacks the cohesion and purpose to do what you want it to. It consumes you in a way that even apathy nor sloth fail to compete with. This is where I am right now. And I do not see that changing. Hopefully I will be able to fully put it into words overtime.
In my dreams my kidneys are not failing.
But as disappointing as this discovery was, I am determined to proceed on and find valuable experiences where ever I travel. And even though this was the first disappointment, I have no illusions it will be the last. I am about to undertake the type of trip that would tire out someone in spectacular health. I know I am due far more disappointment along the way. I labeled this part one for a reason. But I am learning to see beyond disappointment and the despair that it normally breeds. Note I am not ignoring the disappointment, just not dwelling on it — there is not enough time.
In my dreams I never got Lupus.
But I am not forgoing disappointment for dreams. Dreams are just illusions. Disappointment is real. Dreams are ideal. Reality is not. So while there will be more disappointment coming, what I look forward to is how I deal with it, overcome it, and persevere. How I change my tact/journey/time frame/wtfever to accommodate my needs and whatnot. I am sure there is some sort of lesson about evolution here, it is just amazingly hard to see it while I am dealing with the fact that it seems that kidneys seem to have skipped biology class on the days evolution was covered.