Finding one's garden.

During my travels in Thailand, I thought a lot about Candide, a writing by Voltiare that I probably haven't read since senior year of high school. I forget the details of the story, but the general gist of the story is that the hero, after experiencing a series of bizarre, fantastic and cruel adventures that involve bestiality, cannibalism, war and whatever else, finds himself at the very end of the story tending a small garden plot with his other fellow adventurers. And they are all happy about this.

As strange as it sounds, I like the idea of knowing that somewhere down the road, I will no longer feel so restless to see the world. Instead, I will be perfectly content to tend my own mundane metaphorical garden, whatever and wherever that may be. There is a certain beauty in routine, so long as it is not stagnating or limiting to one's personal growth.

My metaphorical garden better include some avocado trees.