I found myself on a plane, shoehorned into my window seat this morning, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico before reaching Central America. From this aerial view, a familiar sting hits me again. What’s out there?
Nine times out of ten, I prefer the road over the plane. Traveling by air is a necessary evil that comes with seeing the world. It’s the way from point A to point B, skipping the middle. For me, it’s in the middle where the magic happens.
I see mountain ranges, long-lost dirt roads, and quiet little towns sprinkled across a landscape I yearn to know more about. Travel for me isn’t about luxury hotels, though I occasionally enjoy a reprieve from the more modest accommodations where I have spent nights. They never leave the lasting impression on my soul.
It’s the taco shacks, food carts, and hidden swimming holes that remind me why I love exploring. It’s the joy of discovery, letting the winds guide us. When you make space for magic, it happens and hits you with a crushing reminder of how incredible this world and life truly are.
To all the perfect moments I've yet to collide with: I'm coming. I can’t wait to be humbled, gutted, and eviscerated by the unimaginable beauty you hold. It’s been an honor to dance with you all these years. Witnessing erupting volcanoes in Iceland, climbing glaciers in Patagonia, living with the Batwa in Uganda, and staring in amazement at the pyramids in Egypt have been more than I ever expected to experience in this very temporary life I have.
Not a moment, not a second, not a single sunrise is taken for granted. I understand how temporary they all are. My gratitude for this world and its beauty will never fade. I promise, the people and the places are infinitely more valuable than the things we spend most of our time focused on acquiring.
Until my last breath, I will remain in awe of this incredible gift of life pulsing through my veins.
