Seeking real life, seeking beauty

 “I stepped on that plane

seeking experiences, conversations: real life. I wanted beauty, not pictures of it. We spend so much time attempting to prove…that we’ve done something. We want the assurance that we’ve done something. We want the assurance that we’re not wasting our time, so we cling to whatever material proof that we can get our hands on, even though we know that a tiny plastic model of the Eiffel tower (or the Parthenon) will only fill us with regret for having wasted 10 whole Euros that we could have spent on a crepe.

If there’s one thing that travelling can teach us very quickly, it’s our transience. When we’re safe in the comfort of our homes, we begin to believe that we have a place to ourselves, that we have roots that can never be dug up. But even at home, there is still that deep sense that we can never fully hold onto where we are, that we can never fully grasp the beauty or the power of this life. Some call this wanderlust, or, perhaps, the human condition. And when we give in to this desire to go out and seek, to see things and places, we hope that we might somehow gain a deeper sense of connection, that our rambling might give way to some sense of palpable purpose.

So we leave our homes in the hope of holding something beautiful and find that yes, the beauty is unending. I can’t tell you how many moments on my trip…that I wished I could somehow hold those moments. That I could somehow make them more than memories.

Before my trip, I booked the flight with the vague satisfaction that I was most certainly “Grabbing the Bull by the Horns.” But as I look back, I’m learning that this is, quite simply, impossible. Indeed, at times it felt a lot like riding on the back of some powerful creature, charged with energy and unpredictability. But I’ve come to think of the experience as less like trying to grab hold of an angry bovine, and more like grasping for those little white cotton things that blow in the wind on sunny days. The ones that if you try to grab, they just swirl around your hand and drift away.”

(taken from http://bindingnorth.wordpress.com/2013/06/26/restless-homebodies/, a blogger whose post I stumbled across)

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