Running 250 km across a desert may be unreasonable, but for me, this was exactly why I had to try. All too often, reason preys on our dreams, our imagination, and sometimes even our human development. It limits us, ties us down while keeping us comfortable and safe. Reason can be a tricky thing.
A little more than a year ago at the age of 33, with many years of schooling, and maturity under my belt, I considered myself a very reasonable person. Simply put, I had a so-called reason for everything I wanted and did. Confidence (or in my case maybe arrogance) can be comforting. This was me before the desert.
The desert however, has a way of changing any one that enters it. It is constant, endless, beautiful, frightening, and sometimes unforgiving. It is brutal and miraculous. In it, life is fleeting, thus most precious.
In 2007, a year before my first journey into the desert, I was a busy professional—part of the comfort culture that is obsessed with convenience, ease, and technology. I had lost track of what really made me happy. Comfort and expedience were things that everyone, including myself, seemed to strive for. I found that many of my friends saw physical discomfort as a sign of unhappiness. We seemed to forget that some of the most gratifying moments of our lives were preceded by moments of great exertion. In fact, they were made possible only by these times of uncertainty, stress, and discomfort. Yet partly due to the media and the consumer culture that we have adopted, I was still looking for fulfillment without the pain and toil that may be necessary to achieve it. I saw that we seemed to be addicted to comfort and relaxation, working five days a week in this pursuit—a chase along a road that never seemed to end, thanks to the countless TV commercials, billboards, and colourful fliers that litter every moment of our day. For me, it was clear that the happiest moments of my life had been due to events that had nothing to do with monetary or materialistic goals. So why then, were so many of my present and future goals still either driven by monetary or material value? Was I really working toward happiness?
My first journey into the Gobi desert in China changed me for the better. I hope my next journey brings a positive change in others, or at the least brings a curious, child-like smile to their faces; a curiosity that perhaps can ignite a spontaneous, unreasonable act of charity, kindness, or humanity. As a Torontonian, I hope my attempt to cross 250 km into the Atacama Desert in Chile on March 29 inspires others to break some of the barriers that only exist in their minds, standing in the way of wonderful and incredible experiences that will never happen if we are afraid to be unreasonable. I hope this liberation will lead to action, because action is what organizations like the United Way thrive on when they are delivering countless acts of kindness every day around our city. This is why I GiveADamn about Toronto.
Please wish me luck on my journey, as I wish all of you happy smiles and warm hearts this spring.