Success Through the Lens of Travel

I have often written that travel has changed me. An obvious, and inadequate statement. Yet, I constantly struggled to put into words what exactly had changed. Simply, it was a feeling. Everything was different somehow, better, and worse. But mostly just different. For many, travel is humbling, enlightening, or inspiring. For others, all they take away is a blanketed idea of “thank God I don’t live here.”. There is no generalization. Just as each traveler perceives the adventure differently, what each takes away is often starkly different. I suppose I ought to clarify, the travel to which I refer is not a vacation, though a perfect worthwhile and even occasionally enlightening use of time, but what I’m referring to I can only equate to a journey. The sort where you are thrust out into the world, forced to encounter it as it is, in all of it’s awe-inspiring beauty, and all of it’s cold ugliness; exposed. It is impossible to venture out into the world in this way, and not to be changed. Perhaps it is life changing, but maybe it’s much less, a small seed that will go undetected, but will continue to shape your life in a way unique to the experience. If you were to suggest travel has not changed you, I would be emboldened to suggest that you are either simply wrong, or that there is something greatly wrong with you has a human being.

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The Little Old Lady Over My Shoulder

Let me start by saying, I have been told I have a few eccentric quirks, of this I’m generally aware. And this may be an example. Put out to the world to think what it may.

The past few months has been this cloud of decisions looming over me. Granted, in part self-inflicted, but still there it is. Waiting. Though I know it’s irrational, I feel like the decisions I make in the next few months will completely dictate my future life. That isn’t really true of course, but certainly, it will shape it significantly. Continue reading

Bucket List

Machu Picchu: A common "bucket list" contender

I’ve had a progressive bucket list for as long as I can remember. Progressive because it never stayed the same very long; constantly crossing things out, not because I had completed them, but because I grew out of it, or lost interest. I don’t have any record of these early ones though. I wish I could look back to when I was seven, and what I thought I wanted to do throughout my life. It would be candid, at the very least, whimsical I’m sure, and likely totally unrealistic. As it should be at seven years old. Continue reading