To them, something doesn't add up. Their comprehension of traveling for weeks with only a small suitcase or a backpack to hold my outfits and toiletries, (along with fitting in the surprise presents for when I travel) is as foreign as the new cultures I envelope myself in.
But to me, this is joy.
This is where I feel so alive.
I love hopping from green country surroundings to built up towns and simmering in the inferno heat and then utterly relaxing on a bus with cool wind being blown through my hair. I even love the dirt that somehow finds its way into every bodily crevice and coats my hair with a sandpapery film. It makes showers that much more divine.
There's something about traveling that brings out my best. I am open, free, confident, calm, happy, content. I am forced to be on someone else's time schedule, not my own. But somehow I accept it as naturally as receiving a gift. My itinerary shows where I'm going which takes the guess work out of choosing plans and paths in daily life.
I'm on a single and straight path, and its reassurance is comfortable and settling.
I can breathe so easily, and so deep.
I can breathe so easily, and so deep.
Reflection comes immediately once I'm in my traveling zone. All it takes is a window, a seat, a book, for me to begin contemplation and look into the heart of me.
It really is a beautiful thing, even if I end up a crying mess next to a stranger (which happens more often than I'm willing to admit. Actually, I'll freely admit that the tears flow far more often than they used to...and I'm okay with that.)
I love this feeling. This is why I love traveling. It's all an adventure and I love adventures. It's all a matter of perspective.
I need to find a way cultivate this in my daily life when I'm not flying or driving around for work or fun. I need my perspective of home to change. I want this peace to be part of me no matter what window I'm looking out of or what time zone I happen to be in.
That's it. I've got it...
That's my next adventure.
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