After reading some of xux’s travel logs at her blog the other day, I left a message saying that it was a joy to read, and also it reminded me of my solo journey into Alaska a decade ago. I just saw her reply today and she asked me why I did not write about the trip. Here is my response and some other thoughts as follows. --------------------------------------------------- Well, it did occur to me more than a few times that I should write something about my solo journey into Alaska. But, on second thought, to make a travel log an enjoyable reading rather than a humdrum daily account, you've got to have that fresh, “unsullied”, raw and true feelings reaped from the trip, especially those sentiments of subtlety and emotional vibes that were aroused by different sceneries on the way – either exquisite landscape or something looming ominous, the moments you went through – be it a joy or an affliction, shine or rain, even a conversation that you struck with some strangers, etc.; yet, all those valuable affects got lost long time ago, unfortunately. I wish I had jotted down a diary, or something at least. That’s the thing with feeling, or affect! Feeling, in essence, is something one-dimensional and non-repeatable. You might be able to replicate it if you want to, either by recollection or imagination, but it won't be the same that is held dear and true to your own heart. Reproducing feelings of the past and penning them down might be okay for the readers since nobody else would know and/or be able to justify what/how you think, but not for myself. Otherwise, it would be fictitious, not an authentic travel log. The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus ( 赫拉克里特） cited an excellent metaphor when he emphasized the impermanence of material existence. He said, "You cannot step twice into the same river," as the water is always changing. Heraclitus might have gone to extreme when he applied his dialectic to the whole world of material, but it is very true in the case of feeling – feeling is something elusive, temporary, transient, just like the running water in the river; and once it’s gone, it will never come back in its original form. Well, maybe I will put it in writing sometimes in the future, but that would be in a different format. A fiction? A memoir? I am not sure at the moment. We shall see. : )))
|
