We walked along the snow lined sidewalk down Main Street in Bozeman . . .
The faint whisper of Christmas sprinkled about in sparkling light-adorned facades of homes and businesses. The brisk fall night cradled us like the cold lover that it is: reminding us of the transience of life, of love. We were walking somewhere, but nowhere in particular. My friend sought me out to talk about love, and life. Continue reading
Even though I tried to prepare myself, even though I felt it coming, one cannot truly be ready to hear it . . .
Good-bye.
You never said those two syllables. They didn’t slip out of your lips and into the receiver. Your expansive vocabulary said it, but in a different way. Not in a definitive way. Not in a way that puts a period at the end. It was like a whisper, a secret. You never said it with words.
But you still did. Continue reading
I don’t know which is scarier, the idea of ending my travels or saying goodbye…
The art of leaving. It takes a delicate touch saying goodbye.
People will tell you about the multitude of cultures that have no way of saying goodbye, as if it means leaving doesn’t exist to them. But it does. Leaving is human nature. And sometimes human nature is difficult. Human history has been one long practice in leaving.
It only takes one breath.
Two syllables.
Goodbye
I’ve become almost too accustomed to leaving. Saying goodbye. That’s what travel can do to a person. First it hurt. Deep, deep down it hurt to say, to leave. The hurt came from the immersion into impermanence it is to travel. Leaving a place is the acceptance of a different presence, one void of the familiarity one knows. Leaving might mean forever. That’s a long time. And that’s scary. Continue reading
This is my life. When Jack asked me if I was interested in writing a piece about the intersection of religion, running and travel, I thought long and hard about what I could say. Well, it turns out that I actually have a lot to say.
Besides my wife and family, the three greatest loves of my life are theology, running and traveling. These three things have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but to varying degrees at different times of my life. It’s only been in the last year that I’ve had the opportunity to experience all three of these at a heightened level. This has made me feel more alive than at any other time in my life. And it has helped me see how connected all three of these really are for me.
It is a reminder of the past. For a new journey cannot begin until the previous has finished. But with that ending you are now more knowledgeable, better equipped for the next. Each mistake from the past is packed neatly along with your clothes. Tucked into each fold you can find wrong turns righted, and rightful preparations wronged. Each delicate experience is examined, in order to properly prepare for the next.
It is a token of appreciation, a sacrifice to the Travel Gods. To improperly pack is to expose yourself to discomfort, dread, or even danger. It takes an understanding of where you will be, what you will do, and who you truly are. You need to know yourself on a level deeper then most, because if you don’t the Gods of Travel will not be satisfied. They will not be appeased, and will punish you for your immature lack of forethought and in-sight.
To pack for a trip is to pay homage to impermanence. You know this experience will end, that is why you are packing for it. You know your previous experiences were not permanent, just as this will not either. You know that life is a continuous series of dis-continguous experiences that creates the illusion of permanence. You know this because you can almost smell, feel, hear, taste, see your bags packed the way they were at the beginning of your last trip. But they aren’t. Because nothing lasts forever, and you are just now beginning to pack. Again.
The author is in the process of packing for a short trip over this holiday weekend, and another longer trip coming up. But if you couldn’t tell the author was inspired by packing, maybe you should reread the piece.
What do you do you think about packing? Tell us some of your packing tips for all of the novices out there that don’t want to anger the Travel Gods.
Let us know what you think: Leave us a comment, connect with us on Twitter (@VagrantAnon), Instagram (@VagrantAnonymous), or email us at VagrantAnonymous@gmail.com.
as their tour manager. A perfect arrangement for a vagrant like myself and a band like them. Since I started helping them at last year’s South by South West, we have traveled through nine states, one Canadian province, four cities in Japan, and I have heard them place at least 80 times in 65 days. That’s an average of one show every five days.
Thursday night they played a great show in Denver at the Marquis Theater with the legendary mr. Gnome. The weekend was supposed to look like; Friday-10am drive to Salt Lake City and spend the night there, Saturday drive to Boise, play a sold out Record Store Day after-party at the Neurolux with mr. Gnome, Sunday the band would leave me in Boise to return to Denver and I would find my way to Seattle for the birth of my nephew.
Obviously, that isn’t anything close to what the weekend looked like, because we wanted to cross the Rockies in spring, and we had plans. Continue reading
After enough time, it becomes a companion, friend, family. Traveling. So, in a way, to stop traveling would be to lose a loved one. And when you’ve traveled primarily alone, like myself, you’re not only losing a loved one, but the only one that knows what you’ve been through. The only one that has been there through it all. The good and the bad. It loves you unconditionally, never asking too much of you or to be anything other then yourself.
It encourages you. Lifts you up. Teaches you to be strong and carefully nudges you in the direction you should be going. In this relationship you learn who you are. Your needs, wants, and desires. You learn your limits.
People come and go. Live and die of their own accord. But travel only dies when you neglect it. Continue reading
Vagrant. Anonymous. 