Every philosophy has principles upon which it is built.  For Plato, principles were the root source of being or knowledge.  For Aristotle, they were the first cause of being, of becoming, or of being known.  A principle is viewed as something basic—as a fundamentum (Latin) or archē (Greek).  Conveniently, a proposition that is a principle admits no proof nor does it need proof, it can be applied to a broad range of cases; it is a fundamental generality governing our understanding. (1)  

A quick view of history, across any subject area, will produce a profusion of principles.  Various schools of scientific thought put them forth, each religion has a set and of course all the philosophers do it (or did it).  There is Bentham’s principle of utility which holds that the rightness of an action lies in its capacity to conduce to the greatest good of the greatest number.  Aristotle’s principle of causality, claiming that every event has a cause, has been debated and honed for millennia.  Just as bold, but even more ambiguous is the principle of truth…only what is true can be said to be known by someone.
 
Why am I philosophizing?  Well after many changes and much time to reflect (I know, it’s been ages since my last post) I’ve been fathoming what Untourism’s principle could be.  What idea would serve as a touchstone, a foundation.  Since I neither have to furnish proof or admit having any, I can apply a proposition widely and declare it as fundamental to our understanding of the world, right?  

So, after 1 year and 5 months of abandoning my permanent residence and embarking on the Untourist way of life, I will pronounce the principle on which it lays…(drumroll)...U-Turns.  Except, oops, U-Turn isn’t right because that implies going back from whence you came, and that’s not it.  So I guess it’s sharp, awkwardly angled turns in unexpected directions at unplanned times. But of course, that doesn’t sound very philosophical.  And it forgets to take into consideration outlook and point of view during said turns.  A Sartre I never claimed to be. 

So let’s just skip any big proclamations and talk a bit.  What I’ve been thinking about most lately is wonderlust.  You know that feeling you have when you are meeting someone for second or third date?  Someone you really liked on the first date, actually connected with, so as you shower and pick an outfit, you aren’t pure nerves and doubts like the first time, but all anticipation.  As you head to the restaurant, you perceive every single thing in your world just a bit differently, a bit more positively.  If the report you have due or the phone call you owe your mother enters your mind these thoughts lack their usual dread, you think “oh well” and return to the excitement of your pending date.   

It doesn’t take a newly met human to inspire this feeling.  It might be a view of uninterrupted landscape, a series of bright lights, the crank of engine, a fresh snowfall, a gust of birds or peak of sun—any intoxicating moment you are lucky enough be struck by, to take notice of in a way that halts you, maybe alters you even if only for seconds.  Lynda Rutledge describes it as “my own universe's stutter and shift.”  But there is no substitute for wonderlust.  And no answer how to sustain its fleeting presence. (2)  

As I wander through the days of what I like to think of as my new, temporary life, I can’t say I have it all figured out, because I can say there’s no such thing as that.  I can say that a Nicaraguan beach and a Midwest office building are different worlds, but not as far away as one might think.  I can say I am amazed, bewildered, sometimes saddened at the way we humans live our lives.  If what we experience is our sum total, then I guess all we can do is the how.

1 Lifted, shamelessly, from an unnamed document published by the State University of New York Press, Albany at http://www.sunypress.edu/pdf/61262.pdf.

2 To read Lynda's make-you-jealous good essay, go to http://www.creativenonfiction.org/brevity/past%20issues/brev20/rutledge20.htm.