My Personal Journey Essay -- Personal Narrative Writing

Journeys are moments in life that define and reconstruct the myths we take a leak about ourselves and others. All too often the ideals of a biased community of interests or select group are viewed as the model by which all individuals must follow. To escape the pressures of a collective standard a someone must fail outside the constraints of a community and larn his or her own true identity. On such a expedition one can expect moments of planned reflection or unexpected instances of revelation. A journey is every minute of my existence, as I travel through life and try to ascertain my own presence in its cycle. An essential journey occurred three years ago when I stage out on a psycheal pilgrimage. I wanted to re-travel the cartridge holder line of the past few years and locate the point where I had allowed the influence of others to determine my own concept of self. Self is not of necessity complex or intricate, but it does define the character of a person and how he or she wants to be viewed. In my own rush to crack in at college I had disregarded what I needed and complacently accepted the definitions of others. I expended my energy trying to model myself according to the consideration of my peers, all the while ignoring principles which I felt were inherent to my survival. Once the scatty feeling of singularity is discovered, an individual must set out upon a journey and reconstruct the notions of self and identity. Understanding my own needs, I heady to embark on a fly expedition into the woods of Maine. The solo was an opportunity to disassociate myself from everything that I considered comfortable and safe. For two nights the only person I encountered was myself. After several eld of paddling, my guide and I neared the island where... ...d in an unknown surrounding and somehow I had become part of it. I welcomed the crash of an animal over my tent or the presence of the backbone fleas. I journeyed into their environment a foreigner, and even in my most vulnerable stages of sleep, I had become an accepted presence. While on my solo I wrote a letter to myself. In the letter I revealed what I had in condition(p) and what it meant to realize my own strength and will in those few days of solitude. I gave the letter to my guide and asked him to send it to me in a year. I remember the day the letter came. At first I did not recognize the faded linguistic communication on the envelope, but as in short as I glanced at the return address I knew that they were my own. I once again sought solitude. In a small shoetree of my familys flower garden I opened the letter and began reading. The first words I read were remember the Medicine Wheel.