Today I begin a journey and if “journeys are the midwives of thought,” as Alain de Boton says in the Art of Travel, then I am ready. I have been, for a long time now, doing: Raising children, caring for the sick and working to support my family. I haven’t had much time to think beyond daily life. And now I am entering something of a birth canal, journeying from one form of life to another, moving forward into the unknown. I have anticipated the freedom to be alone with my thoughts for a long time now.
Today I am traveling to Amsterdam, a ten-hour flight from LA, with Beesly, my eight-pound Yorkshire terrier. I have spent many hours and hundreds of dollars to ensure that she is allowed entry into the UK (thus the circuitous route through the Netherlands) and I’m hoping that every “t” has been crossed and “i” dotted, however, today, as I begin my traveling, I’m in a mode of surrender. I have prepared as sufficiently as possible and now I have to “trust,” “go with the flow,” approach my journey with joyful anticipation and not be thrown off if things become more complicated, as always is the case in travel.
I begin today.
I begin, though I am afraid of the unknown. I begin, though I am nervous about being alone and anxious about a possible missed detail. I begin because I know that I have to move forward, that there is no way around the circuitous route, the complicated logistics. But I hope to remember how I used to go through life: With a belief that good things happen when I am open to them. And when you move at all, toward this destination or that, new thoughts can arise, new ways of being even. They are brought forth by the nature of change.