We are on the road! And with the exception of two weeks in July we will be on the road until mid-October. As we get ready for life on road, there is a commingling feeling of anticipation and anxiety, a feeling I have grown so accustomed to that it doesn’t bother me any more. The “will I get it all done” anxiety is just part of the process, and I know that indeed I will get most of it done, and what doesn’t get done will be non-essential.
I love the feel of the road, the roll of the tires beneath the car. There is something so meditative about it. The rhythm of the road lulls me into an introspective trance, and I am thankful to have the space to settle into deep contemplation. Over the years there have been many who’ve told me that I would hate this life. Would that I had realized sooner than, no, in fact it was they who would hate this life. For me, it is a salvation. I cherish this time of introspection, for in these moments of stillness and rhythm do I find the jewels of what life has to offer.
Then of course, there is the arrival. Somewhere new. A different setting entirely. New scents, new tastes, friends we haven’t seen in many months. Changing up my surroundings always makes me feel fresh. My mental habits are challenged and upturned, and I find it easier to break free of the ruts we all tend to fall into.
Yes. I am inflicted with an incurable Wanderlust. When I think back to how I came to develop this taste for travel, the answer comes easily. My Dad. He had an unquenchable love of travel. When I was thirteen, he packed up our entire family and carted us off to Thailand for a year. I admit to feigning torture, as such upheaval can be challenging for a teenage girl hopelessly trying to be cool. Yet, the memories from this time in my life remain some of my richest. Over the years, my Dad saw as much of the world as he could, trading his skills as a teacher for the ability to live abroad. I didn’t live with him for much of this time, but I always admired him. When he died, I inherited his travel scrapbooks, and they held me in thrall. My sister and I spent hours pouring over them.
So as I prepare myself for an extended journey, I think fondly of my Dad. I thank him for instilling in me the value of travel. Of seeing the world and how others live. This year we make our first foray into performing in Europe, with two shows in Germany. We’ll be staying with Winter’s family in Kassel, very near where the Grimm Brothers lived and wrote many of their famous faery tales. I plan to write some songs here, based on a few of Grimm’s tales. We will also visit Cinque Terre in Italy for our 20th wedding anniversary. It is only 10 hours’ drive from where we are staying, and will be the fulfillment of a dream I have had for several years now.
The life I have chosen is precarious at times. Not brimming over with security, and yet it answers a call in me like nothing else ever has. Like my father, I find myself trading on what skills I have to enable a life of travel. To drink in as much of the world as I can, tasting as many different expressions of life as possible during my short time here, is a spiritual experience for me, and one of the best ways I can think of to show my gratitude for the gift of this life.
Since I have now embarked on a journey lasting the better part of six months, this blog will become a travel journal of sorts. I will share my stories, foibles epiphanies, laughs, and any travel tips I find useful. I hope you’ll visit often!
Let the journey commence!