A lot is written about traveling, so much so that it has its own genre. I have been loth to define exactly which genre of writing I'm pegging myself into on this blog, with the idea that tendencies can emerge that I can hone in on gradually. If I put myself into a box, my natural instinct is to figure out any way possible to get out of and destroy it. Yet I do my fair share of travel writing on this blog, lifestyle-ish, travel-related, personal to a certain point, all as it may be, and today I wanted to share with you some of the things that motivate that nomadic itch that I get that seems to be a fundamental part of me.
I read a flippant comment on social media the other day about how people who feel the need to travel all the time and get away are insecure in themselves and maybe if they just calmed down and did something about their problems they would feel fine staying put. That graphic, in nicely-done typography, set in a relatively well-stylized overlay as is common these days, really stuck with me, not the least of which being because it came from someone who spent the better part of a year living abroad, traveling frequently, and professedly enjoys the experience herself. While I don't disagree that traveling to escape from problems is a bad thing, it was such a strong message of needing to stay put and that it was shameful to leave your rightful (in this case, original or current) place. The negativity was biting and the message was less of a call not to pretend like every indebted Eat, Pray, Love excursion is going to solve all of your inner problems and more of a call to make people feel bad about themselves. I don't support that.
My personal story is one of a persistent resilience in the face of any mental or otherwise personal problems that I come across, and that makes me a bit of an odd fellow. So the message of working on myself before seeking out other things is not entirely lost on me, but I can only appreciate it from a distance of knowing what the end result is like, and not of having had to spend lengthy amounts of time in the trenches. I am quite fortunate in this regard.
Yet traveling, for me, is a world entirely outside of my problems, it doesn't change my ups and downs, nor does it cause or affect them in pointed, specific ways. Traveling and moving to a new country has allowed me to simply experience that aspect of being human in different places and allowed me to gain the perspective of other cultural responses to the same nagging questions, the same doubts, the same jubilation, the same loneliness of establishing yourself in new surroundings. Traveling, fundamentally, is just the act of existing in an unfamiliar, or even a familiar but different, place in the world from where you are most comfortable. Everywhere else, whether it be one city or multiple places, is home. Making the decision to travel, whether by necessity, for work, spontaneously, frequently, or infrequently, is a decision to go outside of your personal comfort and accept that you will be thrust into new patterns of thinking, that you will have to deal with all of the frustrating things that accompany the moments that make us marvel and go in the first place. Not everyone is out to have an Eat, Pray, Love experience, but those who do need not, by any means, be shamed for it—much less from others who have exerted their own right and ability to do precisely that. Not all those who get away each weekend to discover somewhere new are doing so because they have problems to confront, and not all those who stay in a static world of a 100 kilometer radius their whole lives have successfully managed to become paragons of mental health.
The travel bug strikes a lot of people. Most people, I would offer, probably have experienced it to some degree. Others, like me, seem to have been born with it. My motivation stems from a curiosity about all things, new or not, and the desire to understand them better. My motivation stems from wanting to see aspects of the human world that are not available in my American, anglo-centric place of origin. My motivation stems from the pursuit of sensory input, for the pure creative aspect of it, be it aesthetic, gastronomic, or otherwise. What is yours?
I read a flippant comment on social media the other day about how people who feel the need to travel all the time and get away are insecure in themselves and maybe if they just calmed down and did something about their problems they would feel fine staying put. That graphic, in nicely-done typography, set in a relatively well-stylized overlay as is common these days, really stuck with me, not the least of which being because it came from someone who spent the better part of a year living abroad, traveling frequently, and professedly enjoys the experience herself. While I don't disagree that traveling to escape from problems is a bad thing, it was such a strong message of needing to stay put and that it was shameful to leave your rightful (in this case, original or current) place. The negativity was biting and the message was less of a call not to pretend like every indebted Eat, Pray, Love excursion is going to solve all of your inner problems and more of a call to make people feel bad about themselves. I don't support that.
My personal story is one of a persistent resilience in the face of any mental or otherwise personal problems that I come across, and that makes me a bit of an odd fellow. So the message of working on myself before seeking out other things is not entirely lost on me, but I can only appreciate it from a distance of knowing what the end result is like, and not of having had to spend lengthy amounts of time in the trenches. I am quite fortunate in this regard.
Yet traveling, for me, is a world entirely outside of my problems, it doesn't change my ups and downs, nor does it cause or affect them in pointed, specific ways. Traveling and moving to a new country has allowed me to simply experience that aspect of being human in different places and allowed me to gain the perspective of other cultural responses to the same nagging questions, the same doubts, the same jubilation, the same loneliness of establishing yourself in new surroundings. Traveling, fundamentally, is just the act of existing in an unfamiliar, or even a familiar but different, place in the world from where you are most comfortable. Everywhere else, whether it be one city or multiple places, is home. Making the decision to travel, whether by necessity, for work, spontaneously, frequently, or infrequently, is a decision to go outside of your personal comfort and accept that you will be thrust into new patterns of thinking, that you will have to deal with all of the frustrating things that accompany the moments that make us marvel and go in the first place. Not everyone is out to have an Eat, Pray, Love experience, but those who do need not, by any means, be shamed for it—much less from others who have exerted their own right and ability to do precisely that. Not all those who get away each weekend to discover somewhere new are doing so because they have problems to confront, and not all those who stay in a static world of a 100 kilometer radius their whole lives have successfully managed to become paragons of mental health.
The travel bug strikes a lot of people. Most people, I would offer, probably have experienced it to some degree. Others, like me, seem to have been born with it. My motivation stems from a curiosity about all things, new or not, and the desire to understand them better. My motivation stems from wanting to see aspects of the human world that are not available in my American, anglo-centric place of origin. My motivation stems from the pursuit of sensory input, for the pure creative aspect of it, be it aesthetic, gastronomic, or otherwise. What is yours?
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