Am I packed yet?
No.
But there are piles of supplies and equipment scattered around the bedroom floor waiting to find a home in one of the two bags I will be piling onto the curb at the airport terminal tomorrow evening. But instead of packing, right now I stare at the 3.4lb rolled-up sleeping bag, trying to figure out how it can possibly live up to its advertised -5 degree limit. It's bright orange and cone-shaped and looks like a giant carrot, for goodness sakes! Sitting beside it are my newly acquired Chacos sandals (Eliza has lovingly dubbed them my "Jesus sandals") and a box full of whatever Pepto Bismol product CVS had in stock in this week. Mm-mmm.
In less than 24 hours, I will be en route to Kathmandu (with layovers in Frankfurt and Delhi) for a month-long orientation before embarking for my new school and host family. Anxious, yet excited, I recall a great travel poem by John O'Donohue passed along by my favorite capstone professor (thanks Joe!), which has helped me prepare mentally for this next journey:
For the Traveler
Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.
New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.
When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:
How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.
When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.
A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.
May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.
Catch you on the flip side!
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