With every journey comes an opportunity for personal reflection. I've learned new things about myself from even the most mundane car rides across Washington state, and every time I'm above the clouds in an airplane, I gain a new perspective (both literally and figuratively) on my life. Perhaps it's the moments of inevitable boredom that unleash our minds to deeper reflection, but there's something about traveling that unveils truth. Even beyond those we find within ourselves, there are lessons to learn about the world in general which in turn will shape who we are.
While I'd never classify myself as a "go-getter" (I've spent much of my life working past an anxious state of mind, decided indecisiveness, and erratic self-confidence), I've always been impatient for personal success. It may be a trait of many perfectionists that we expect instant results but punish ourselves for not getting things right the first time around, which anyone will tell you isn't a very constructive way to live one's life. In any case, it has never been easy for me to sit still while the rest of the world is seemingly "getting on with it."
This is what I love about travel: It simultaneously puts your life in freeze frame and puts you in a position to see that, like it or not, life goes on without you. Facebook is the most standard reminder of this fact: whether you're in Tahiti or Timbuktoo, someone's getting married, someone's having a(nother) baby, someone's "booked it!" and someone else has just polished off #omgthemostamazing waffles at a #bestiebrunch. It's old hat by now to suggest Facebook offers less connective comfort and more evidence that our lives aren't measuring up to everyone else's, but still I find myself in need of the reminder that it's not a race, and it's okay.
It's okay to feel simultaneously and incongruously left out and petrified by the wedding photos and engagement announcements plastered across Instagram. (And it's also okay to share these feelings with your boyfriend.)
It's okay to watch your college friends carry on with life in a way that you know will eventually separate you; it's okay to feel nostalgic for the days when this outcome didn't seem possible.
It's okay to watch your comrades land dream jobs and dream roles and do generally dreamy things and wonder what the hell you were thinking putting your life on hold to ride trains and attempt conversation with people who don't speak a word of English.
Of course it is. After all, all roads lead to Rome, right? Or was it Vienna...?
When Jay and I took the sleeper train from Italy to Austria, we were placed in different compartments for the journey. Upon waking alone in my tiny bunk, I turned on some music to keep myself company until breakfast. The first song to come up from my shuffled iPod library was, coincidentally, Billy Joel's "Vienna." As the train rocked along, I let the song wash over me, and its lyrics began to stand out with a greater poignancy:
Slow down, you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart
Tell me, why are you still so afraid?
I've always been curious why Billy Joel chose Vienna to drive this song's message, and though the artist himself has his own explanation, it wasn't long before I began to see reasons for myself. For one thing, it rests on the north-east tip of the ever-magnificent Alps. Even more apparent, though, is the Baroque opulence and artistic history oozing from its streets. It isn't hard to imagine the likes of Mozart and Klimt exercising their genius here. Like many European cities, there's an encouragement toward taking time for life's intrinsic pleasures; cake, coffee, and good conversation. It echoes Joel's plea to "slow down" almost perfectly.
Throughout this trip I've been wrestling with lots of "Where do I go from here?" and "Who am I? vs. Who do I want to become?" and "Am I doing this life thing 'right'?" I think anyone is apt to do this in the midst of empty time (and perhaps an empty wine glass...) But the further I travel and the longer I meditate on the questions above, the more comfortable I become with not having the answers. And the bizarre thing about embracing uncertainty is: you suddenly want to act.
No, I don't mean act in the acting sense (though of course for me that's an apt definition) -- I'm talking about starting projects, getting moving, marching fearlessly forward without a compass.
Slow down, you're doing fine;
You can't be everything you wanna be before your time
It's normal to feel the compulsion to "find yourself" while traveling. We all want to return "a changed (wo)man." Yet I can't fathom the amount of times I've said "I'm going to do this everyday when I get home!" only to find myself quickly settled back into the same old habits. So while part of me knows these feelings may fade the second my nose directs itself back into a day-planner, I'm taking stock of them now....
The impulse to take my parents out to dinner, just to learn more about their lives before parenthood. The desire to walk weekly through my favorite park. The new peace I feel at the thought of cleaning out my old bedroom. The urge to drive in a car with sunshine and music and the people I love. To take myself out to coffee for nothing more than the simple joy of me-time. To plant things. To bake things. To dance.
Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true.
Vienna was waiting for me, it seems, to realize an age-old conundrum: that life is both long and short. Time evades us even as we revel in the beauty of any given moment. The best we can do is search for the thing that makes our soul soar and serves another in its wake.
The rest will wait.
