Always a traveller...

I just read my old travel diary from when I was 17 and jetting solo to France to spend some time with people I never met. Seemed like a good idea at the time (and in retrospect), but I was too American... I couldn't appreciate where I was and what I was doing, and the effect of being immersed in history and culture while at the same time, not really knowing much about it... well, the effects (along with culture shock) blew away my little mind.

I didn't get on well with my friends (they were all older and did two things: go to the beach (in Normandy) or go to the bar. Sounds ideal, but I was allergic to the Sun, and back then, very, very square. I didn't smoke, drink, or do any drugs at all, (LOL, not that you'd know it now!) and I was so young and high on life, I didn't much care to be around that kind of scene.

So, I ended up staying alone in Paris in a one-star hotel until I ran out of money, then spent a few nights at the airport until I could get a flight home on standby. I nearly got arrested for - I kid you not - playing a synthesizer (through headphones) in the restrooms! Turns out, I was stealing electricity. Who knew?

Looking back on the diary, I now realize that I'm a traveler. I mean, 15 moves in 15 years? And so I begin to look forward to the next trip. As I am (once again) on the verge of being homeless and jobless, I can't help but wonder... where to next?

You know, Eastern thought affirms that we are all travelers, and that the path of constant self-cultivation is a lonely one; yet one that we all must inevitably take if we are to derive true meaning from this existence. The only constant is change, right?

To have come so far... to have so far to go... to still be alone... will I ever cease yearning for stability and companionship? If so, will it be because I've met my soulmate, or because I've found inner peace?

And what does that make me anyway... a traveler who brings with her (in her purse) every important memory of her life? Imagine that... only the clothes on your back, yet contained on a small chip, in vivid detail, every sight, sound, thought, event, award, movie, song you've ever wanted to keep.

Is that the exemplar case of not being held down by material possessions, or is it technology-enabled self delusion, substituting material possessions with digital ones, and if so... does that matter, since it all fits in your pocket?

And what then, if such chip were lost... wouldn't that feel like losing a large part of yourself? (Yes, it would! Imagine losing everything in your home to a fire!) But... I can help to wonder, which inhibits growth more... having possessions or being without? From my experience, the things you own end up owning you... but is that because of their physical mass, or the psychological addictions they create?

My guess is that the physical mass sucks you in, weighs you down like gravity. Since I'm converting everything physical to digital over the next month, I'll keep you posted on the progress!