Christmas Bonding Time

My mom and I have a heart-felt tradition for the holidays: pretending to exercise. We love going to the YMCA and burning calories together. Do we run? No. Do we work hard? Please. We grab magazines, jump on the tv-equipped treadmills, tune into My Sweet Sixteen or Emeril - maybe even bring a snack - and distract ourselves in every possible way from legitimate exercise. When we leave, it feels like we've accomplished something and, all smiles, we leave feeling great.

Passion: The Filling

I've heard that when a person is passionate/obsessive about something, it means they've felt slighted/experienced a loss and are attempting to fill the void. Examples:

1) comedian: diagnosed with cancer and needed a way to laugh at the world

2) foodie/weight loss guru: started cooking, lost weight, and felt misled by all the "healthy" packaged foods that contain additives

3) graffiti artist: someone stole her markers at daycare

You get the drift.

My one qualm with the theory is that it makes passions/obsessions seem dysfunctional, because they're born from a negative. However, obsessions make people create things, tell stories, get things done. What if our lives are nothing but trying to fill one void after another? Is there anything wrong with that? Is there anything wrong with wanting to be a jelly muffin?

Coffee Date: Fail

In a conversation with my sister: 

A: I just went on a coffee date. I hate dating. I'm so bad at it.
H: What happened?
A: We had nothing to talk about...he kept checking his text messages and I saw him glance at his watch while I was talking. Conversation was very forced.

Afterthought:

A: It was probably a bad idea to mention that I didn't like dating while on a date.
H: Yeah...that was a bad idea...

The hilarity of my wipe-out

has worn off. Bruises have been appearing on all my limbs during the past few days. Currently trying to heal myself in epson salt baths.

My Life Is Like A Child

The more I try to control and shape it, the more it rebels and tells me what it will do. Anyone else with an autonomous life - can I get an "amen"?

Fourth Ave Street Fair, December Edition

The famed Fourth Avenue in Tucson has two street fairs per year, 

and I - luckily - had a Saturday off to enjoy it.

The artwork is the best.

Be it material

or people...

Incense is kind of a big deal here

but I love glycerin bar soap.

Visited the booth of my favorite sunglasses man, Todd.

I thought these glasses were totally me, but I ended up choosing more practical eyewear for biking.

I thought this guy sported them a little better, anyway:

That's all for now ~ until spring!

The Unwanted Guest

An acquaintance of Cindy's - John - is looking at property in the area and asked to stay at the house while he's in town. This is not a good weekend for a visit, though - she's behind on her work and has commitments for the next several days. She felt John had been a little inconsiderate in his request, but Cindy's not one who likes to leave people hanging, so she let him stay on the couch.

I try to be considerate when I can, but I find that I'm not such a considerate person if it means walking on eggshells for someone else. Cindy, Rae, and I are all early risers. We usually start our day around 5 AM and are all in bed by 9. This morning, though, I happened to wake up early.

Clock: 4:42 AM.
Amy: I'm hungry...but someone is sleeping in the living room. It would be rude to wake him while I tromp around the kitchen. I should wait a little longer. 
Clock: 4:53.
Amy: That's long enough.

I made breakfast and turned the kitchen light on, which didn't spare the living room any of it's beaming rays. Rae came in a little later and was as considerate as a mouse - not saying anything and only pouring herself a glass of water. Cindy came in right after me. I decided to finish my breakfast in my room, because Rae's good behavior made me feel guilty. After I closed my door, though, I heard vegetables being chopped, the faucet running, the microwave going, and the dishes clanging. I should have just stayed at the table with all the racket going on! I came in minutes later to wash my dishes and every pot and pan from the night before had been washed and was sitting in the rack. Cindy spared no pains for John.

Bike Wipe-Out

Sunglasses in blindingly sunny Arizona are awesome. They're like butter for your eyes. Except when they don't have the prescription lenses you need - then they're just hazardous.

Biking to meet someone for an occupational coffee chat, I encountered the never-ending university construction and turned down a side street. I saw a sign that read, "No through street," and thought, Well, that doesn't make sense. Clearly, I can go right through.

Not paying attention to some other white signs and not being able to see the brown chain stringing them together across the street, I ran into the barrier on my bike. I saw the chain right as I approached it and grabbed my brakes. In slow motion, I left my seat, went forward toward the ground, and thought, Glad I have a helmet! However, because I continued to hang onto my handles and apply resistance, I ended up tumbling to the side instead of out in front. I landed on the chain and became tangled in the metal, the bike, and my own arms. I made one feeble attempt to move and then gave up.

I heard a guy say, "Hold on. I'll call you back." I realized I couldn't get out of my self-imposed knot. Then I heard footsteps approaching.
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fine..." I moaned. "Except for a bruised ego." He helped me untangle myself and we went on our merry ways. Luckily, my bike was fine. I only had a giant, bleeding gash on my hand (discovered once I took my gloves off) that I tried to inconspicuously wrap in paper napkins during my interview-chat. Classy.

I thought about including a lesson for this post, like the dangers of being negligent about one's eyewear...but I honestly wrote it because I thought the whole thing was hilarious. I fully intend to continue wearing my sunglasses while I bike, too.

The Calling That Just Sort of Happened

I read an article about a woman, Camille Seaman, who travels to the Arctic and Antarctic to shoot portraits of icebergs and glaciers. Her career began when she was asked to give up her seat on a packed airplane in exchange for a free round-trip to anywhere the carrier served. She chose Alaska and was amazed by the enormity of the icebergs she saw. Camille began photographing them and soon realized they were threatened by global warming. Her photographs document the environmental changes occuring, and she exhibits her work all over the world.

What fascinated me the most about her story, though, is not so much what she does, but how what she does came to be. She states, "I didn't have a plan when I set out to make these pictures. I just opened myself up to the possibilities, and the universe pointed me to a way I could be of service."

I wish the universe would do that for me - just strike me one day with a brilliant idea.

New Place: Photos

For privacy reasons,  I'm not going to include photos of everything, 

but I will share some of my favorites.

The kitchen and bathroom were custom-tiled by Cindy's brother, 

made with scenes of Tucson and the ocean.

This was waiting for me in my room when I first arrived. 

My room that Cindy put together for me <3

Photo on the right: that's a skylight on the ceiling :-D

A street near my house.

This is a very large "wash" (where the water runs when it floods). I'm looking across the width of it to the walking bridge on the other side. To my right is another bridge for the cars.

The wash has paths where you can walk or bike along it.

Me.

There are several trails in this part of town.

There you have it: the area of my new home. 

The Biz

I've explored different industries in the past year (dance, yoga, restaurant, self-development, massage, and now advertising) and I have noticed that they all have their own little worlds. Some of these worlds easily melt into others and allow an easy entrance. Some, however, resemble boxes wrapped in chains and sport an "Enter If You Dare" sign. The ones who succeed quickly in these worlds do so because they enter at a young age. They've been born and bred for the lifestyle, knowing the ins and outs and negotiations. Those who aren't already "in" don't know the lingo, the unspoken rules, nor the tricks of the trade. I'll venture it's the unfamiliarity - not the talent - that causes a person to fail. The outsiders have to work relentlessly.

As I talked to Jay, the creative director, I discovered that advertising is a "chainmail" (a lightly chained) world. You don't have to have parents in the industry to get in, but the earlier you start, the better. 

"So," I asked, "what about people like me who have been out of school for a few years and want to enter advertising?"

"Agencies know that people do come in from other areas...but they also have kids who have been preparing for years in marketing and advertising programs, who know more than design - they know the technology and how to sell a product," he said. "You're coming in from the outside." I see.

He added, "There are a lot of people who have an interest in media or writing, but the successful candidates tend to be the ones rabid for it."

Rabid. What a word. Sounds like I'm up against a pack of dogs...which I might be.

He gave me several suggestions about how to approach my career, but the one that was most clear-cut was school, and honestly, I'm not opposed. The dream of going to an art school of some kind has flitted through my mind since college, and maybe now I have a good reason to look into it. The only thing I don't like is that preparing to go to school and then actually attending is going to be a long process...just to start my career. Geez.

Enter: Advertising

The advertising industry is a bad, bad place to be. People leave in masses, turning to entrepreneurship, yoga, and their parents' homes. You only work there if you have no soul or don't know what else to do with your life. At least, that's what I believed until a week ago.

With all my time not dancing, I finally finished a yoga video I started months ago. That's what started my roll. I thought, You know, this is fun. I like spending hours working out the details of aligning sounds and music and creating interesting shots. Maybe I should pursue this. (The yoga video isn't awesome, but if you'd like to see it, click here.)

The Research
So I looked up UW alumni who might be doing something with media. I found one - Jay, a creative director - and sent him a quick email saying basically, "I'm a UW alum and ballroom dancer who's looking to enter the media industry. What can you tell me?" He sent a surprisingly quick reply and started off saying, "I've been working in advertising..."

And that's when I went, Wait. Is THAT what I'm getting into?? I had visions of filming and editing videos for artists, local businesses, and maybe even a high school volleyball team...not creating commercials. But when I thought about it, I realized my visions were to sell the products and services of the artist or business and give people incentive to support the local team. Ok...let's check this out...

Within minutes, I was hooked. The more I read, the more energized I became...and I didn't know why. The fact that I had no experience or related education in this business didn't slow me at all - it actually did the opposite. I was thrilled and couldn't fall asleep! I stayed up late learning about "books,""Pencils," (portfolios, awards) and who the heck David Ogilvy was and how you pronounced his name (father of advertising - name pronounced OH-gul-vee). I couldn't get enough (and still can't).

The Challenges
It's a tough business: the jobs are few, competition is high, starting salary is low (sometimes nothing), long hours are the norm, and rejection is on the "tasks accomplished" list several times a day. You have to perform when you walk in the door and juniors are expected to kick the senior employees' a** with new ideas.  People don't tell you your work is good - if you're lucky, they'll say it's OK. And you have to have thick skin - no crying in public. You kind of live and die for this industry.

great. sounds horrible...why do it?

Because It Looks Like Fun 
Reason 1) I want to produce things! I don't want to be a creative person in a business; I want to be in the business of creativity. I want to be surrounded by quick, smart, quirky thinkers. I want to tell stories and inspire people or make them laugh or make them think. Still, you may say, you don't have to go into advertising to have those things. It's true. There are other careers that might make me happy and could ultimately be a better fit...I could go into entertainment or continue working on a couple books I've started. Or try to launch the business I've been dreaming about. However, I see doors opening in the direction of advertising and I feel the energy pushing me through. I don't really want to open the other doors.

Reason 2) I also have a twisted corner of my brain that wants to do whatever someone/something tells me I can't. No specialized education or skills? So what? One of my coaches would tell me that my dancing was crap every time I had lesson, and it only pushed me to work harder. I wanted to prove him wrong with every fiber of my being.

Entering advertising could be something like that. This whole trip could simply be an impulsive act fueled by stubbornness and competitiveness, and one that could die in three months. Or tomorrow.

Therefore, is it truly my career? Will it be another gateway to something else? (Why can't my gateways be lucrative for once??) I don't know where this will take me!

Reason 3) The industry is exciting and if I play my cards right, it could lead me to a whole new set of adventures. I was reading this post on happiness optimization and it made me conclude the following:

I used to think, "work to live" meant that work and life were separate: you had a job and then lived your life outside of it. Now, though, I see it means to use your work as a *lens* for life -- leveraging it as an opportunity to open doors to different experiences.

At the very least, I hope advertising will open doors for me into graphic design, excellent writing, travel, photography, and connecting with many creative people. I also hope it will sharpen my mind and give me yet another positive shift in my world view. It might take a few years for all of this to happen, but I'm ready to give it a go.

Following Up
Jay and I emailed back and forth a couple times. When he found out I was in another state and would not be able to stop in his office any time soon, he wrote:

OK, so that makes it all the more challenging. Not sure of your daily schedule, but maybe we could jump on a call at noon (CST) next Friday (earliest free time for me) or at some other time the following week.

I’ll try to guide you as best I can, but the so-so-fun barriers ahead: New career path, new market, limited experience, few jobs and that “competition is always good” thing.

Sounds like fun.

Graffiti Art Wannabe

Every time I try to make visually bold and loud statements, I usually just tire myself out and retreat into jeans and a college t-shirt. But I am determined once again. Maybe I should just be ironic...one of those people who can whip out super catchy-flashy artwork but looks like farm girl from Wisconsin. Possible?

The Word On Dancing: Out To Lunch Indefinitely

I stopped dancing. 

"What?" My partner asked. I didn't want to say what I was feeling. He continued, "It's simple, but you're trying to find a nice way to say it. Just say it."

"...I think I'm burned out."

~~~~~~~~~

When I was becoming depressed, I lost interest in dancing. I thought it was simply because of my S.A.D. However, even on my happiest days, I discovered I had no desire to go out and dance. As the days went on, disinterest in dancing turned into dislike and then gradually repulsion. I became upset over feeling this way and started talking to my family and friends: "What is this?!" I'd ask. I had everything I wanted: a great partner, a great coach, and I was working toward my dream of becoming a professional dance teacher. However, something didn't feel right. 

I had returned to analyzing myself again - what I was passionate about and what I wanted to do with my life. I had an overwhelming desire to create something - write, produce, build. I started reading more about self- and career-development. I wanted to focus on building a creative career and not pour energy into lessons and practice anymore, but I wouldn't accept that thought. Maybe, I thought, I just need a break. Maybe this is normal. Maybe this is part of hard work: it's not always fun, but when you hang in there, you'll achieve great things. But I no longer wanted to even think about dancing. I felt disgusted and I wanted to be disassociated from it. I would cringe when people would refer to me as a dancer. I'm other things, too!! I wanted to yell. 

Practices were difficult to attend. I wasn't mentally there and I quit caring. You know that "ceiling" I talked about when I was depressed? I kept hitting it with dancing. I just hated thinking about it. Yet I continued to convince myself to push forward. What about everything I wanted? I'd ask myself. Nationals? Blackpool? A big part of success is showing up, and I knew that if I showed up, eventually I would be successful...but at what cost? Obviously I wasn't happy anymore. 

To help me figure out where my values were, I reflected on a few questions (with the help of my mom):

1) What are you afraid of?

2) What would you lose if you quit?

3) Is there a compelling reason to not continue dancing?

After thinking about it, the real issue/fear came out. I realized that I was afraid of letting people down and I was afraid of what people would think of me if I quit: Is Amy going to be one of those people who sets out to do something and never finishes? Is she a quitter when things get hard? She could be great, she has so much potential and she's throwing it away. I didn't think she would follow through anyway...she's not dedicated...

All these thoughts were and are very real to me. They also make me wonder about my motivations for pursuing competitive dancing as far as I did...were my goals ever really my goals? Or were they implanted in my head by others? Goals I "should" have had? For me, one of the upsides of being told that I have talent and potential is that it motivates me to do better and fulfill it. The downside, though, is that I believe I now have a responsibility: I need to fulfill this talent or potential, otherwise it will go to waste and I will be a failure. My coaches and team members sent me the positve messages, but I also saw the feelings they revealed about those who were decent dancers and never practiced: disapproval. I never wanted to be on the receiving end of that. Lastly, I have to admit that my previous partner - even in his good intentions - fueled the pressure I felt to continue dancing. He would talk about my talent and how I could end up at Blackpool. I think this might have been his dream for me and I eventually took it on. As great of a goal that it is, it only makes choosing a different path that much harder.

After contemplating the fear issue, I thought about how much I used to love dancing - truly. Running finishes in quickstep let you fly and foxtrot feathers and three-steps let you glide. In Latin, you could unleash a firy or charismatic energy that you never let out otherwise. I loved beautiful movement and stories told through dance. I loved taking on different characters through expression without words.  There really was something magical about it. 

However, for whatever reason, the magic wasn't there for me anymore, and the need to figure out how the body could move efficiently and beautifully across the floor wasn't as dire. 

~~~~~~~~~

I explained to Shey that I didn't know if it was temporary or long-term, but it was definitely there. I mentioned how I didn't even want to think about dancing and that I was done. I couldn't tell at first how he was taking it. He seemed shocked and then understanding. We went over and sat down on the studio chairs, ending practice 20 minutes early. 

"I think I feel the same thing," he said. A Standard tango came on. "I don't want to dance to this - I can't relate to this! Can you?"

"Well...kind of..."

"The thought of dancing to this music - to Standard music - makes me want to throw up..."

I burst out laughing. I thought Standard music could be very beautiful, but I had to agree that sometimes enough was enough.

Shey and I talked about working through it, but truth be told, I think we both wanted to be done. We agreed to take an indefinite break. If we came back together, we came back together. If we didn't, we didn't. The great thing about this partnership was that was that we seemed to be on the same page the whole time - from the beginning of our dancing to the end. Kind of crazy how you meet someone like that. I actually don't view our partnership as ending, though. I think of my partnerships like I think of book chapters - they're always going to be there, and when you want to revisit that dancing/chapter again, you can. 

When I biked home, I felt an incredible sense of freedom and as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt good. Really good. I began thinking of all the other things I could do to fill my time and was met with an incredible swirl of possibilities. I could write or watch movies and not feel guilty for not practicing, or I could become certified in TEFL and move to another country - like Turkey or Oman! OR!!! I could go SoCiAl DaNcInG and ENJOY myself! ...or maybe that's a bit much for now.

Regardless, leaving dance won't be forever, but I want to try something else for a while. It's been great so far, but I want dancing to be my art...and to be fun. 

As I peddled home, I began planning my next adventure...

New Home

With my short-term lease being up, I set out on Craig’s List and found an inexpensive room to rent about 20 minutes by bike from where I worked. I now live in a small, but really cute home near the northern part of town with a woman, “Cindy,” and her daughter, “Rae.” Cindy is an event coordinator for a historic building, where many weddings are held, and Rae is a high school student and classical violinist. The other two occupants include a dog named Reese, and a cat named ZeeZee.

I personally love this house. Cindy has been living in it since the 1980s, and she loves to decorate it and be a homemaker. In fact, she redid my room a few times before I moved in – matching bed sheets, pillows, furniture, and decor with the painted walls.  I received updates via email on every new change. Then after I settled in, she told me to always ask before I went out and bought something, because they probably had extra on hand. Cindy and Rae aren’t wealthy, but they’ve hosted several visitors in the past (foreign students and friends in transition), and they all tend to leave things behind. This is great for Cindy, Rae, and now me: we have tons of extra toiletries, hangers, and more blankets and pillows than we know what to do with.

Another thing I love about my new house is the tile work. Cindy’s brother tiled the kitchen and bathroom walls, making them into works of art. The kitchen has a landscape of Tucson and the entire bathroom shower has the ocean, with sailboats and seagulls. I mention these features specifically, but the whole house is filled with little works of art, and each has a story.

Finally, I enjoy each neighborhood I’ve lived even more than the last and this one seems to top them all. First, the hostel was in a historic district, and then the apartment was in an eclectic, progressive part of town. This home resides in a middle class area and close to the mountains. I love getting up in the morning and seeing the mountains so close to me now…like they’re literally just down the street. At night, they disappear from view, but the tiny lights from houses light up the foothills. Day or night, it’s picturesque.

I wasn’t sure how I would adapt to a new home with roommates, but so far I love it – Cindy is a cheerful person and Rae is “cool” doing her own thing. The amenities are an upgrade for me, too: I have my own room, refrigerator, and bathroom. I have a full kitchen to use, a washing machine to do laundry, and a front yard to hang my clothes. The neighborhood is pretty quiet and domesticated, with grocery stores and two libraries near by. I also don’t have to park my bike next to my bed anymore out of fear someone will take it if I lock it up outside. There’s no end date for how long I’ll be here and Cindy and Rae have taken me in like a family member. I imagine I’ll stay for a few months…until I’m ready to move on to my next adventure J.

P.S. As soon as I find my camera, I’ll post photos…

Acupuncture Aftermath

It’s been over two weeks since my first acupuncture treatment and I can definitely feel a great improvement. Before, I could not be positive. I felt as though I was hitting a ceiling. I would think a positive thought (“What a great day!”) but had to push myself to really be happy. It took way too much energy, though, and I would sink down again. I didn’t realize this was going on until I experienced the opposite…an impossibility to be negative. I had three treatments over the course of a week, and below are some of my experiences:

Treatment, Day 1:  moderately happy after session

Day 2: I felt like I was on top of the world. I had so much energy I couldn’t contain it. Every time I tried to think a negative thought, I couldn’t. It was as though I was being buoyed up – every time I tried to push myself down, I just came right back up. I laughed so much today. Furthermore, I felt extremely clear in my mind. I could recognize what was happening in my brain and in my lifestyle habits when I was depressed and what was happening when I wasn’t. As the day went on, I felt my energy continue to pick up, but slow down a little after I ate dinner.

Day 3: I awoke from a restless dream and my heart was racing. I got out of bed and within a few minutes I started pacing. I had so much energy I felt like I had to keep moving…otherwise I thought I’d have a heart attack. The positivity faded away and I became anxious. I couldn’t calm down and I nearly called the hospital. I called my dad instead and we talked to each other on the phone and texted back and forth for the next few hours. He suggested I go for a walk, but I could barely stand still long enough to change clothes. I also ate a lot that morning, because I thought digestion would slow everything down. It didn’t. I wanted to be productive that day, but all I could do was pace. I called my office and was able to get another appointment with Margaret. After I hung up, I began chattering aloud to myself and wringing my hands nervously…still pacing. The whole anxiety experience lasted three hours, and then – finally – my heart rate slowed to normal and I was ok again.

Treatment 2: Margaret took my pulse and put a few needles in. This time they went in my stomach, legs, and feet. I kept my eyes closed the whole time. She taught me some calming breathing exercises to slow my nerves. When she finished, she asked,

“Would you like me to stay in here with you? I can…it’s up to you…”

“Sure.” I was uneasy and felt vulnerable.

After a few minutes I asked quietly, “Do you know what happened this morning? Why I reacted the way I did?”

“Well…” Margaret paused for a moment, “Sometimes in order to heal, we experience things that aren’t comfortable. There will be emotions and feelings buried deep inside of us and they’ll come out in different forms…” she continued to talk about these different forms and I nodded understandingly.

“How do you feel right now?” she asked. I was about to speak, but I couldn’t, because right then tears came streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I cried, but I suddenly felt very sad.

“It’s ok, Amy…” Margaret put a Kleenex in my hand. I let the tears continue to stream down the sides of my face. When they finished, though, I felt very calm. I realized then that I didn’t feel any needles in my body at all. In fact, everything felt very light and peaceful. Maybe this was what they meant by a blissful state, I wondered.

When the treatment was over, I felt sad again for the rest of the day and the day after. Just the day before I wanted to conquer the world…and now I didn’t want to do anything.

Treatment 3: Five days later I had one last visit. Margaret put in the needles in my back again and I wasn’t anxious at all this time. Actually, the last few days had gone pretty well and I had begun to feel good again. I felt neither buoyed up nor like I was hitting a ceiling; I felt…normal! When we were finished, she said my energy was much better than it was last time.

~~~~

I’ve been doing really well ever since and I’m an enthusiastic supporter of acupuncture now. The panic attack episode was a little scary, but since I didn’t take anything chemically (I was only stuck with needles), I trusted that my body was just doing what it needed to do to get better. In Western medicine it works the same way, right? Sometimes you get worse before you get better? And there’s no need to be nervous about seeing an acupuncturist yourself if you ever want to...everyone reacts differently based on what they’re going through and what they need. Regardless, whether you’re skeptical of it all or not, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’m just glad to be better!

Finally, the best part about everything is that I can actually look forward to and enjoy my birthday this year. It will be in a few days, and the quarter-life benchmark won’t be a crisis J. 

I loved this entry so much I had to repost it on my blog :)

Why We All Need Journeys

by Jeff Goins | 23 Comments | Twitter, Facebook, Google+

I began my adult life as a traveler; in many ways, travel has made me who I am today. I think we all could learn to see our lives more as a journey than a destination. We would be better for it.

Photo credit: Moyan Brenn (Creative Commons)

For me, it started with a three-hour trip downstate to go to college. Then a semester in Spain. Then a couple summers in Texas.

After I graduated, I joined a band and traveled for a year: Canada, most of the U.S., and Taiwan (we were BIG in Asia).

Then I moved to Nashville and spent the first few months going on weekend road trips. After that, I would drive 20 minutes downtown to hang out with homeless people. Later, I would lead mission trips overseas once or twice a year.

Wherever I was, I would find a way to embark on some excursion, some mini pilgrimage. Because in the leaving, I found myself. In the going, I learned something about my identity.

Three lessons journeys teach us

1. Journeys define us. They are important markers of our lives. And they remind us that we are all travelers of some sort.
2. Journeys reveal our shortcomings. They show us we are not alone in this world. That there are other wanderers out there, in searching of truth and meaning in this great big, confusing universe.
3. Journeys teach us about life. Richard Rohr said we go on journeys so we never have to go again. I sort of agree. We spend a semester abroad, take a year to backpack Europe, or volunteer with the Peace Corps to remember thatlife is the grand adventure. Once we learn this, we never stop traveling (even if we never leave home).

A journey is what you make it

It’s a process of leaving and arriving, of losing yourself and finding it again. And if these are our only criteria, anything can be a journey — as long as you are intentional.

Every once in awhile, I have to remind myself that despite a mortgage and steady job and any other semblance of stability, I am still a wanderer. Still a journeyman in search of answers, still a pilgrim in a foreign land.

And every so often, I have to take a trip to remember this. To find. To lose. To become. Last year, it was Ireland with my wife. Before that, Puerto Rico with a good friend. In the near future, it will be somewhere else.

The lesson of all journeys is this: Life is not stable, and we’re not in control. All we can do is enjoy the ride. (Click to tweet.) So how about it?

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
—Mark Twain

Note: If this topic resonates with you, check out Seth Barnes’s new book,Kingdom Journeys. I helped him edit and publish it. Oh, and it’s FREE this week on Amazon (offer good through Sep. 29, 2012).

http://goinswriter.com/journeys/