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27 August 2010
24 August 2010
Feel the Love
Tomorrow I will leave behind some of the most inspiring, compassionate, funny, and important people in my life for the arms of a bright and big world. To my friends and family who have patiently listened to me, held me, and laughed with me through this process... all I can say is but thanks, thanks, and thanks. I love you to the stars and back again and again and again, I'll carry you all in my heart as I make my way around the globe!
There are a few things that I'll miss out on over the course of the next four months, so please indulge wholeheartedly and often in the following as a way to keep me in your hearts too:
There are a few things that I'll miss out on over the course of the next four months, so please indulge wholeheartedly and often in the following as a way to keep me in your hearts too:
1. Visit your local Farmers Market and eat organic foods.
2. Hug friends and family.
3. Listen to National Public Radio.
4. Sweat it out in Hot yoga.
5. Feel the love for Oprah Winfrey's "Farewell Season."
2. Hug friends and family.
3. Listen to National Public Radio.
4. Sweat it out in Hot yoga.
5. Feel the love for Oprah Winfrey's "Farewell Season."
16 August 2010
What We Decide to Pack
I’m sitting in my room, staring at 120 liter rolling duffel bag that rests limply on the floor. Next to it is a basket of clean laundry and I am realizing that the next time my laundry will actually feel clean again is exactly four months from today. I’m not bothered or worried or grossed out by the reality, it just strikes me as a moment – a moment where the gravity of, and the truth behind, what you’re about to take on is captured so beautifully in the smile you create all by yourself.
I figure a week out from departure is a good time to start thinking about packing. I know that for some people this process started weeks if not months ago, but the extent of the physical “stuff” that (in my opinion) needed to be fussed over before now has been more malaria/vaccination/how-do-I-actually-pay-for-this oriented.
So now I have this big suitcase and need to figure out what to put in it. Spending the majority of my summer living out of two different suitcases has taught me a lot about what I own, why I choose to take ownership of it, and how much of what I own do I actually use. The truth of the matter is, I own more than I need and end up mostly drawing from a pile of comfortable shirts, fun sweaters, and a rotation of jeans and shorts. Oh and, well workout clothes is a separate story. If you break a (real) sweat 6 days a week, that whole laundry situation becomes even more interesting. I get this a lot: “oh my gosh, 100 days in 14 countries?? How in the heck are you going to pack?!” I don’t respond with my dissertation on society’s complex and disturbing dependence on material comforts... rather with something like “Ah, yes! But it sounds more difficult than it actually is starting to look like” because in truth, wardrobe is the least of my worries.
The point of this entry isn’t to elaborate on the Deet or the toothpaste or the new pair of TOMS Shoes I plan to haul on the boat. The concept of “deciding what to pack” extends beyond the tangible and to a level of consciousness that I find crucial to engage in before I take any big, new steps in my life. What habits, thoughts, perceptions, or past experiences do I want to take with me…? But more importantly, what do I want to leave behind? A mild detox, a purging of sorts. I’m looking at the empty bag and am thinking, you know what, I’m not filling that bag with any of my physical crap until I get some things “upstairs” retired or recycled. Too often we distract ourselves with money, and things, and checklists and don't leave enough room to consider the moment in time we occupy and notice the giant "backpack" of history, worry, regret, ideas, and hopes for the future that's totally strapped to us and maybe slowing us down. Before filling my duffel with shampoos and scarves and shorts, I need to do a little organizing.
I'll pause for an asterisk here: I never wanted this blog to be a diary, so I feel no need (nor do I think I am brave or willing enough) to drag on about the process of sorting through what I want to unload or reaffirm. But I do bring it to the table because I think it’s something important to share with you, whoever reads this, to think about what you’re going to "pack" with you as you transition from one phase to another.
Really though, this isn’t a new or divine concept. On a biological level, nature supports the cleansing of the body in the springtime after the high digestive fires of winter began to wear on our systems. The heavy, rich foods that tend to be consumed in the winter cannot be maintained and Ama (sticky toxic products of indigestion) start to accumulate. If you don’t assist these toxins in moving out of the body, you can become prone to flu, colds and cough, or allergies. Or you might feel unusually fatigued, sluggish or drowsy. To remedy the situation we change our diets, spend more time in the sun, and begin anew.
See what I mean? I think the mind desires to purge just as the body does throughout the seasons. If you don’t get the funky stuff out, there isn’t as much space open to the possibilities for growth and joy. I think we owe it to ourselves to realize our greatest potential by coming to terms with what doesn’t serve us, and what truly makes us feel energized, strong, and ready to move forward. Let yourself go there. I’m inviting you to join me. I’ll see you on the other side… with a full suitcase, and a lightness of spirit to take on the road ahead.
06 August 2010
Seeing the Big Picture
If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. - Mother Teresa
05 August 2010
Looking Out
I’ve spent the last three or four days trying to find a “cool” blog template to use for documenting my trip to share with others and I realized yesterday that the endless search was only supporting my procrastination to actually write on my pre-departure state of mind. I’ve reached the official 3-week mark on the countdown, and everything is starting to feel more real than ever.
I hate rollercoaster analogies… but it’s the only thing that’s coming to me now as I try to articulate this stirring mood. Here’s the feeling: you’re all strapped in (safe as could be) and the coaster car is clicking up, up, up the slope. The hubbub of the park has quieted because you’re up so high now yet there is still a low level of fervor amongst the fellow riders who are all giddy to finally have made it to the ride after a far-too-long wait in line. You’re already gripping the handrails below your cheeks, which is kind of embarrassing because nothing has even really happened yet. When the climb begins to flatten out, everything feels at peace as you look out over the suburb from your perch. A few butterflies check into your stomach and then, suddenly, you’re creeping forward and you can see that this steel mechanism you’re attached to is about to plunge straight down. You have to make a decision: to completely relax and smile or hold on tighter and say a prayer. The ride didn’t wait for you to make a choice, and 15 seconds later your hair is in your mouth because you’ve been screaming upside down. You can’t see your friends next to you, but you hope they’re alive and having as much fun as you are. A camera flashes, and after one last turn you’re whiplashed to a complete stop and you feel completely alive.
Right now, I’m in the sitting-on-the edge-of-a-cliff phase looking out with the oh-my-gosh-we’re-about-to-drop feeling. Does that even make any sense at all?
The point of that long winded story was to say that I feel like I’ve been walking around with a feeling of anticipation – knowing that this voyage is about to change me in ways I can’t even pretend to predict or imagine. Yes, of course I’m completely excited out of my mind… the spirit of adventure has always been alive in me. But I also am deeply conscious of my own small place in this world and how I wish to shape it by what I learn, see, and experience. I know that from previous travel experiences, each time you leave one culture and enter into another, you can (if you’re fully present) become informed to realities that your everyday “routine” has managed to overlook, and will be transformed by the enlightenment that said truth will reveal. My beliefs will be either strengthened or challenged as I surrender to the amazing forces of the universe and the people and places that I will welcome into my journey. Upon my return, I’ll begin to make newer and truer choices about my future – old priorities may become meaningless or more important than before I left. Time will tell.
Looking out, that is the feeling.
So. Clearly. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And when I don’t want to think, I head to a bookstore and park it in the travel section with a stack of books telling me what I “can’t miss!” or “avoid at all costs!” It's fun looking at the pictures and writing down ideas, but I'm not trying to tackle the whole world, rather get a taste of it. That means wandering to places with restaurants that aren't in English, and away from the hot spots in most Rick Steves books. I plan to prioritize a few good finds and let the rest happen naturally... hmm.
I’m running late to work now, best be going!
Catch you later,
Kelsey
I hate rollercoaster analogies… but it’s the only thing that’s coming to me now as I try to articulate this stirring mood. Here’s the feeling: you’re all strapped in (safe as could be) and the coaster car is clicking up, up, up the slope. The hubbub of the park has quieted because you’re up so high now yet there is still a low level of fervor amongst the fellow riders who are all giddy to finally have made it to the ride after a far-too-long wait in line. You’re already gripping the handrails below your cheeks, which is kind of embarrassing because nothing has even really happened yet. When the climb begins to flatten out, everything feels at peace as you look out over the suburb from your perch. A few butterflies check into your stomach and then, suddenly, you’re creeping forward and you can see that this steel mechanism you’re attached to is about to plunge straight down. You have to make a decision: to completely relax and smile or hold on tighter and say a prayer. The ride didn’t wait for you to make a choice, and 15 seconds later your hair is in your mouth because you’ve been screaming upside down. You can’t see your friends next to you, but you hope they’re alive and having as much fun as you are. A camera flashes, and after one last turn you’re whiplashed to a complete stop and you feel completely alive.
Right now, I’m in the sitting-on-the edge-of-a-cliff phase looking out with the oh-my-gosh-we’re-about-to-drop feeling. Does that even make any sense at all?
The point of that long winded story was to say that I feel like I’ve been walking around with a feeling of anticipation – knowing that this voyage is about to change me in ways I can’t even pretend to predict or imagine. Yes, of course I’m completely excited out of my mind… the spirit of adventure has always been alive in me. But I also am deeply conscious of my own small place in this world and how I wish to shape it by what I learn, see, and experience. I know that from previous travel experiences, each time you leave one culture and enter into another, you can (if you’re fully present) become informed to realities that your everyday “routine” has managed to overlook, and will be transformed by the enlightenment that said truth will reveal. My beliefs will be either strengthened or challenged as I surrender to the amazing forces of the universe and the people and places that I will welcome into my journey. Upon my return, I’ll begin to make newer and truer choices about my future – old priorities may become meaningless or more important than before I left. Time will tell.
Looking out, that is the feeling.
So. Clearly. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And when I don’t want to think, I head to a bookstore and park it in the travel section with a stack of books telling me what I “can’t miss!” or “avoid at all costs!” It's fun looking at the pictures and writing down ideas, but I'm not trying to tackle the whole world, rather get a taste of it. That means wandering to places with restaurants that aren't in English, and away from the hot spots in most Rick Steves books. I plan to prioritize a few good finds and let the rest happen naturally... hmm.
I’m running late to work now, best be going!
Catch you later,
Kelsey
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