Once upon a time, not quite so long ago, people travelled only rarely and only for specific reasons. Back then, the focus of travelling was divided into two according to the travellers' social and economic status: rich people travelled for the joy of travelling itself, whereas the poor travelled in order to arrive somewhere.
The love of travelling as a leisurely activity has left us tales of sumptuous trains and ships – think Orient Express and Titanic; tales of mystery and romance – Agatha Christie, for example, or the homonymous film about the sinking goliath; tales of artistic and courageous development – the Romantics travelling to sing to Etruscan urns, or the Arthurian legends; tales, oh so many tales! Stories we love, we envy, and which we cannot really give up. They are stories of lives unlike our own, of people so decadent in their daily existence they could spend time in a suspended state between here and there. They are stories that tell us that what matters is not where were going, but how we change while getting there.
Yet we mostly travel to get somewhere, destination has become paramount. We act as though we were the migrants of old, scraping and enduring in order to move, willing to leave behind their loved ones in the hope of a new life far away. We have lost the ability to pause and breathe different airs at different hours of the day, to observe the mutating landscapes, to feel the gradual change in temperatures. Life today is about doing, moving as fast as possible, and doing some more.
We have lost the ability to explore Life as a Journey, and journeys as parts of our lives. The goal has become a gaol, rather than a liberating objective. The rat race has gnawed at our heels, and rendered us unable to move truly, freely, constructively.
Those Arthurian legends, those tales of travel, still call to us. They tug at our heartstrings and play an ancient tune that stirs our soul: a call to adventure, a call to being in the moment and savour the change. They are the thread that ties us to the fabric of the universe.
If we concentrate on destinations and places, and forget to experience the journey itself, what will happen? We will tear asunder the connection, and will be left with mere islands – isolated, lost, drifting, alien forever after despite our brief visits. If we detach the places from the process of their discovery, we detach them from their birth into our lives. The time and experiences lived there will forever be relegated to the dream-world.
Regain the journey, regain the world. Regain the world, regain yourself. Regain yourself, regain all people.
Cherokee Traveler's Greeting:
‘I will draw thorns from your feet. We will walk the White Path of Life together. Like a brother of my own blood, I will love you. I will wipe tears from your eyes. When you are sad, I will put your aching heart to rest.’
Happy journeys!
