I have known for years that traveling would be a journey i should part take in. Sometimes we write our dreams down with little vision, plenty of passion and little insight as to the whys and the hows. That was me, i had no idea why it had to be a dream for me, because all i felt was the passion to do so.
I must have mentioned this in an earlier post, but driven by grief, traveling was no longer a dream, it is the sole reason why I am alive today. The rush of anticipation that bursts through my veins reinvigorates me. Being lost in a city and the frustration it brings, oddly enough grounds me. The seldom tears of loneliness is refreshing. It’s a welcoming feeling to know that my tears are slowly being released from the captivity that is grief. Even my days when the weight of it all takes over my body, I am able to sit in it, not hide, not shy away from, not cover from judgment (from the why am I still grieving?) From the chats of the uncultured and unloved, who cannot phantom the overwhelming existence of grief in my life now. I am able to allow myself to do so freely, on my own terms. And, it is the most healing, most freeing feeling in the world. It is then that I know, how incredibly grateful I am to be so fortunate, to be able to conquer this gravity of emotions, and to fend the darkness in search of the light by the way of traveling.
I know this time will eventually come to an end as all things do. However, until then the travel continues.
Al🦋
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