New Orleans, La.
I've written this before, but I guess some truths bear repeating: it is, in fact, a very large world. Deep, abundant oceans, towering mountains, vistas defying horizons, cities that rise up like pimples from the arbitrary oils of history, and countless topographical idiosyncrasies stippled across this great planet we call Home.
We forget it. I forget it. I give myself credit for being able to bird eye my life and see some larger perspective or great divination moving my piece across the chessboard, but how much do I really see? How much in my day-to-day am I actually aware? I think about it. I feel I 'get it'. But I don't. I lose it.
I sit here in my square miles of proximity to where I report for my paycheck, where I buy my foodstuffs, where Someone Else circulates. And in my case, I've had a pretty okay five years of establishing my square miles and deeply understanding the movements therein.
They haven't always been kind. In fact, during the past year, I'd say it's been taxing. I love my work, I have a solid circle of friends, but my viewpoint has condensed to the point where I've lost perspective of the worlds I've known before, the worlds I've explored, the worlds where I feel I've accomplished something, even if it's only absent movement. I feel like I've lost sight of how big the world actually is and how insignificant my troubles truly are.
It's time to remind myself of the great expanses out there, both globally and within my own perspective.
It's time to travel.
It's been a long time. I now hold a steady job, a fucking career, if you will. This career could not be more rewarding or in tune with my values and yet I still find myself hostage to loss, defeat, melancholy.
It's time to travel.
This will only be two weeks. Standard, rote, American vacation allowance. But goddamn do I need it. I once thought that anything less than a month was chicken scrap and now that I'm in the modern workforce I feel like it's nothing less than Knighthood. I will travel. I will ski. I will hike. I will speak a foreign tongue and keep my phone in an inaccessible pocket and respond only to sunsets and open spirits.
It's time to travel.
It's never too late to remind yourself of the infinite of the cosmos and the fallibility of your own life. It's never too late to remind yourself life is much bigger than where you are, where you stand, where you've been. It's generally understood it's impossible to catch up with every setting sun or shooting star but that should never mean you shouldn't damn well try. And so I go.
I've written this before, but I guess some truths bear repeating: it is, in fact, a very large world. Deep, abundant oceans, towering mountains, vistas defying horizons, cities that rise up like pimples from the arbitrary oils of history, and countless topographical idiosyncrasies stippled across this great planet we call Home.
We forget it. I forget it. I give myself credit for being able to bird eye my life and see some larger perspective or great divination moving my piece across the chessboard, but how much do I really see? How much in my day-to-day am I actually aware? I think about it. I feel I 'get it'. But I don't. I lose it.
I sit here in my square miles of proximity to where I report for my paycheck, where I buy my foodstuffs, where Someone Else circulates. And in my case, I've had a pretty okay five years of establishing my square miles and deeply understanding the movements therein.
They haven't always been kind. In fact, during the past year, I'd say it's been taxing. I love my work, I have a solid circle of friends, but my viewpoint has condensed to the point where I've lost perspective of the worlds I've known before, the worlds I've explored, the worlds where I feel I've accomplished something, even if it's only absent movement. I feel like I've lost sight of how big the world actually is and how insignificant my troubles truly are.
It's time to remind myself of the great expanses out there, both globally and within my own perspective.
It's time to travel.
It's been a long time. I now hold a steady job, a fucking career, if you will. This career could not be more rewarding or in tune with my values and yet I still find myself hostage to loss, defeat, melancholy.
It's time to travel.
This will only be two weeks. Standard, rote, American vacation allowance. But goddamn do I need it. I once thought that anything less than a month was chicken scrap and now that I'm in the modern workforce I feel like it's nothing less than Knighthood. I will travel. I will ski. I will hike. I will speak a foreign tongue and keep my phone in an inaccessible pocket and respond only to sunsets and open spirits.
It's time to travel.
It's never too late to remind yourself of the infinite of the cosmos and the fallibility of your own life. It's never too late to remind yourself life is much bigger than where you are, where you stand, where you've been. It's generally understood it's impossible to catch up with every setting sun or shooting star but that should never mean you shouldn't damn well try. And so I go.
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