Photo: Eddi 07

Part III: Return

To see our lives in the poetic light of a heroic quest is empowering. It frames our experience in a creative context.

Imagining ourselves as heroes in the cause of our own lives is to embody timeless attributes. Far from childish fantasy, it’s a powerful and motivating vision for facing life’s challenges as champions of our own stories.

Yet every journey ends, and there comes the need for home. Outlasting the journey is a kind of impotence in fighting the return – a running away from connection. But re-entry is a challenging process, and perhaps a greater test of heroism than undertaking the journey itself. The unconscious bonds with home must be reaffirmed or recreated, and the experience of the journey translated into ordinary terms. If this isn’t completed, there is no Return.

Joseph Campbell’s Hero Monomyth details the themes of the mythic journey, reflecting the issues of mortal travelers who experience profound transformation in their own travels. Rediscovering home – wherever it may be – is the final leg of the journey, often taking longer to come to terms with than the time spent in travel.

The Six Stages of Return

1) Refusal of the Return: Reaching the end of journey and winning the spiritual prize, the hero may be tempted not to resume their life in the home they left.

Photo: h.koppdelaney

Campbell noted, “…the responsibility has been frequently refused. Even the Buddha, after his triumph, doubted whether the message of realization could be communicated, and saints are reported to have passed away while in the supernal ecstasy. Numerous indeed are the heroes fabled to have taken up residence in the blessed isle of the unaging Goddess of Immortal Being.”

The hero faces a kind of fatigue, a skepticism of meaningful placement within their original context. There’s a tale of a mighty warrior who refused home, asking to be granted eternal sleep. When his rest was disturbed, he had the choice of rejoining the world of men.

Again, he declined, and “retreated to the highest mountains”, and there dedicated himself to the ascetic practices that should finally release him from his last attachment to the forms of being. Said Campbell, “…in other words, instead of returning, (he) decided to retreat still further from the world. And who shall say that his decision was altogether without reason?”

2) The Magic Flight: Leaving “Dream World” for “Common World” is easier said than done; it’s difficult to convert the radical experience of initiation into a mundane plot. A hero may become trapped by the psychological impact of the transformation – and the abyss that has been stared into will stare back.

But all hope is not lost. According to Campbell, if the hero locates and grasps a sense of purpose in the prize of their journey, “the final stage of (the) adventure is supported by all the powers of his supernatural patron.” Yet, he continued:

On the other hand, if the trophy has been attained against the opposition of its guardian, or if the hero’s wish to return to the world has been resented by the gods or demons, then the last stage of the mythological round becomes a lively, often comical, pursuit. The flight may be complicated by marvels of magical obstruction and evasion.

3) Rescue from Without: “The hero may have to be brought back from his supernatural adventure from without. That is to say, the world may have to come and get him.” Heroes sometimes require some kind of prompt to escape the egoless Dream World.

The true climax of the Hero’s Journey is not in the winning of the boon, but in re-participation. Returning home is about regaining the ties that bind; the emphasis here is that the connection has always been within reach, though perhaps disguised. It is “paradoxical, supremely difficult” – but all Dorothy needs to do is click her rubied heels together.

4) The Crossing of the Return Threshold: The hero returns home intact with their knowledge of the other side – an awareness that spans barriers which must be kept ever separate.

Photo: Eddi 07

The hero has passed through something which cannot be defined in Common World, but which must yet find a voice. For example, when someone speaks of a powerful vision of love, they speak of timelessness, inner conviction and need that swallow other needs.

How can love be made into an easily-related symbol? Its unexplainable nature shows “the reality of the deep is not belied by that of common day.” Even more unnerving: the artifacts from the journey are seemingly more potent than those of the Common World, operating from a primordial energy with its own inscrutable logic.

More than the bravery of confronting the inner fears and entering the incongruous Dream World, “The returning hero, to complete his adventure, must survive the impact of the world.”

5) Master of Two Worlds: The hero now embodies both worlds, no longer fully of one or the other. Harmonizing one domain with the other is the cosmopolitan challenge of mastery – deciphering a mystic experience without defeating it.

The difficulty is that the discoveries cannot be represented simply – and this is the problem with understanding myth in general. As Campbell explained, “The problem… is to keep [the] symbol translucent so that it may not block out the very light it is supposed to convey.” The hero must find a context for interpretation, relate their unrelatable experiences as a form of mastery.

Keeping this doorway open is “freedom to pass back and forth across the world division… not contaminating the principles of one with those of the other.”

6) Freedom to Live: After witnessing the relationship of oneness that all things are part of, the hero shifts beyond the narrow confines of ego into a selfless existence.

Photo: h.koppdelaney

The meeting with the unknown dispels “the need for such life ignorance by effecting a reconciliation of the individual consciousness with the universal will.”

It’s to abandon mere preference for a greater connection, a surrender of staunch certainty to admit the absurd – to accept the indefinable as a natural condition. Casting off these demands frees the perception of life to include many more possibilities to meet the unknown flexibly.

Entering adventure and returning home is to share with others the greater kingdom beyond that of the little king. Campbell understood why myth continues to resonate in the modern heart: because it is a cord tethered to the past, a link to the basic elements of the human equation and our common nature. More than that, they can be used as stepping stones to our own potential – a path we can follow in the steps of the hero.

Have you had a hard time reintegrating at home after your own Hero’s Journey? Share your thoughts below.

Read the series:

• Part I, Heroic Travel: Joseph Campbell and the Power of Mythic Journey
• Part II, Heroic Travel: Navigating the Mythic Journey.

Photo: yosoyjulito

Part II: Initiation

Travel is a fundamentally human activity, practiced around the world for thousands of years. It’s about discovery – the passion of following where an unknown road will lead us – and it can reshape how we see the world and ourselves within it.

The same can be said about myth. The reasons for travel are identical to why we study myth: to explore new ways of life, to learn more about the world, and to better understand the nature of human imagination.

What no mythologist before Joseph Campbell recognized was the relevance of myth to issues of contemporary living. He was keenly aware that myth can speak to the modern world. The key is to view myth as a metaphor of spiritual instruction, rather than historical fact. Campbell believed fixating on literal readings leaves us blind to underlying messages. Myths provide existential signposts to navigate by, and they should be read symbolically, not factually.

For example, imagine a man getting ready to go to work in the morning. He kisses his wife and says, “I’m off to slay the dragons.” Certainly we understand his meaning – he’s going to face the day’s challenges, not to chase down oversized lizards. He casts himself in the metaphoric role of a hero.

However, if he walks out the door with a sword in hand, he has taken the metaphor literally. The problem isn’t only that this is inappropriate for the office, even on casual day. By recreating the image literally, he misses the point of the heroic image – the deeper meaning of the figurative message.

Where the Mythic Road Leads

Campbell’s hero endures mythic themes in their journey, and some of the most profound are encountered in the world outside home, or “Dream World”. Echoing the spiritual experiences of many travelers, Initiation to the mystery involves six stages:

Photo: h.koppdelaney

1) The Road of Trials: The Dream World represents the proving grounds of the hero’s aptitude. Marked by a fair amount of stumbling, the hero faces surface challenges of every kind: mental, physical, emotional, ethical, devotional, and so on.

The trials of the volatile dream realm are preparation, a chance to learn the rules. Heroes may suffer the return of doubt, but facing these obstacles proves the hero’s worth. Only those who “talk the talk and walk the walk” can progress to future stages.

2) The Meeting with the Goddess: “Woman,” wrote Campbell, “in the picture language of mythology, represents the totality of what can be known.” A common feature of the Hero’s Journey is to encounter divine feminine insight, interpreted as “true seeing”.

Though traditionally depicted as male, literal translation of the hero’s gender is not the message. Spoken in today’s dialect, the theme of this stage is to harmonize masculine action with feminine mystique, uniting both aspects of the hero’s identity without one facet overwhelming the other.

For a hero too soft or gruff to the union, the journey becomes anti-heroic. Execution and essence must be balanced to bring the hero’s identity into accord, without losing grace or potency. Vigor becomes brutishness, charm becomes conceit, if one side overshadows the other.

Only by display of the “gentle heart” do heroes and heroines court their “missing half” – a step which affirms the full range of the engendered psyche.

3) Woman as Temptation: Arguably not part of every journey, this stage refers to the ever-present libido. Campbell regards the issue of sexuality as critical: heroes mustn’t be lured either from the journey or their own identity. Embracing the goddess of knowledge, a hero is also made conscious of the “impurity” or “carnality” of contact across borders – movement is sexual.

Often a prelude to union (some might say reunion) with the goddess, the hero must deal with enticement from the path. Like a flame with the power to help or harm, respect for the union must be paid. Walling off the dark side creates stress, while contact with the radiant source of life burns and corrupts the hero’s higher self. The conflict is to stay in control – resisting the siren’s lure is freedom to choose, versus servitude to personal demons.

4) Atonement with the Father: This stage begins the climax of Initiation: to amass the final powers needed to assume the mantle of the role model. In simpler terms, it’s to say, “I can do it myself” – to change potential into confidence.

By incorporating the symbolic position of father (or mother, if female), the hero also integrates a model of the “law” – the law of how to live on one’s own terms. Campbell described this stage as developing the vital wisdom for the final prize to complete the Initiation. He saw it as a form of atonement (“at-one-ment”) with one’s potential, to see the parental figure as a mortal keeper of wisdom, not an unapproachable warden.

Photo: h.koppdelaney

“The hero transcends life with its peculiar blind spot and for a moment rises to glimpse the source. He beholds the face of the father, understands – and the two are atoned.”

5) Apotheosis: Apotheosis means “to become godlike”. The responsibility earned in the previous stage opens the hero to a new way to relate to life, the final step needed to face the “shadow-self” – the greatest threat to the hero’s character.

This is an encounter with a kind of death: a death of innocence, of “what-was”, similar to the passing on from home into the Dream World itself. The “way things were” is shattered and reintegrated; the ego dissolves and recrystallizes in a new awareness – a rebirth. The hero encompasses their naïve past, the present of their new role, and direction of the future with the fresh power they now control.

6) The Ultimate Boon: In the rebirth, the hero wins a spiritual prize. Often depicted mythically as a magic elixir, cup or device that grants immortality, endless food and water, or healing, it may also appear as treasure or a powerful new awareness. Yet these are still symbols of the boon’s real meaning: an end to suffering, to mend a rift or heal a wound. The prize supports the sense of harmonious life, and the true essence of the reward is to move beyond symbols to revelation.

A gift to be shared, the boon confirms myth as a means to link individuals to the causes of their communities. But the revelation presents a new barrier: how to connect the new self to the life left behind. The journey becomes a mirror of itself: having translated Dream World, the hero must relate their insight to the departed Ordinary World. The journey is not yet complete – the decision of where to establish home is considered in the next phase, Return.

Have you experienced travel similar to Campbell’s mythic journey? Share your thoughts below.

Read the series:

• Part I, Heroic Travel: Joseph Campbell and the Power of Mythic Journey
• Part III, Heroic Travel: The Mythic Art of Homecoming.

Photo: h.koppdelaney

Part I: Separation

Joseph Campbell returned home from his studies in Europe soon after his twenty-fifth birthday. Inspired by the brilliant tapestry of thought he encountered there, he planned to combine modern art, medieval literature and Sanskrit into a single doctoral thesis.

Predictably, his advisors didn’t support the idea.

This prompted Campbell to abandon doctoral work completely, leaving him without a clear direction in his studies or his life. Two weeks after his decision, the Wall Street Crash of October 29th, 1929 left millions of Americans suddenly destitute.

Yet Campbell was about to embark on a quest – one which would endure throughout the Great Depression to generate a remarkable new vision.

Committing himself to an arduous program of private study, he buried himself in books for twelve hours a day, supporting himself in the evening by playing sax in a jazz combo. After five years of rigorous self-education, he emerged a formidable authority in comparative mythology and religion, fusing philosophy, psychology and anthropology with – sure enough – art, literature and Eastern studies.

The Role of Myth in Everyday Life

Photo: !anaughty!

One of Campbell’s great talents was to connect seemingly unrelated ideas into harmonious design. His most influential work came from linking archetypes, or fundamental human themes, to myths from around the world.

Campbell believed myths were more than just fanciful stories – they were guides to dealing with the mysteries of existence.

What is the best way to live? How do we explain the natural forces all around us? Where do we fit in the grand scheme of life? Myths provide grounding beliefs for these questions.

Though many of the ancient tales seem absurd to modern sensibilities, we still invent our own myths to function in a world of unknowns. And, because these problems are inherently human, we confront them in ways which follow similar patterns.

The Hero’s Path

Campbell discovered that no matter where they originate, hero myths follow a consistent outline he called the Hero Monomyth – a template that applies not only to mythic tales but to our own lives.

In essence, this means any journey or life-altering event can be seen as a heroic quest. The Hero Monomyth offers points of reference to help orient the traveler with a meaningful experience of life. Depending on the level of involvement, journeys can be deeply transformative.

According to Campbell, a hero’s journey follows three stages:

• Separation (or Departure) – the hero leaves home to follow a defining mission.
• Initiation – the hero enters the Dream World, a place where normal rules are suspended.
• Return – the hero claims a transcendent prize and returns home to share it.

Leaving The Common World

Separation has five substages, each of which addresses an element of crisis in leaving home for the “undiscovered country”. It should be noted that not every theme will appear. Every journey is unique, as well as the lessons they teach.

The Call to Adventure

The hero receives a “call” to action, a prompt to leave the comfort of home for something more. Whether literal or figurative, the call may come in as many forms. The hero may be lured by curiosity to a strange new place, awaken to a new situation, have no other choice but to adventure, take a “wrong turn”, or suffer a significant loss.

The call carries with it a sense of destiny. Sometimes it is announced by a symbolic herald, or perhaps the “invitation” is misunderstood at first. Regardless, transformation begins at the hero’s discovery of need – something which may cause great distress or confusion.



Photo: h.koppdelaney

Refusal of the Call

In many cases, heroes are reluctant to face impending destiny – instead of answering the call, the hero hits the snooze bar.

The longer a hero denies fate, the more they or their loved ones suffer. This “converts the adventure into its negative,” and the hero becomes a victim to be rescued. Often, heroes are unaware of qualities that mark them for the quest. To join the adventure, heroes must escape the paralysis of doubt, or act in spite of it.

Supernatural Aid

After accepting the overture of destiny, a hero may encounter a helper with unique insight. Their purpose is to aid the journey with protective knowledge and tools. The patron appears mythically as a little man of the woods, a good fairy, a kindly crone, a blessed virgin, a respected wizard, or an innocent bystander. With luck, the hero will recognize an aide’s form when it arrives.

The Crossing of the First Threshold

The hero crosses the barrier separating the ordinary from the fantastic, a symbolic commitment to face the unknown. The crossing is seen as a subtle but meaning-laden “coincidence of opposites”, an intersection of normal and exotic, comfortable and alien. Defending the boundary may be a “threshold guardian” that chases off casual or unprepared travelers. Part of the test ahead is to respect the nature of the guardian – secretly, an embodiment of the hero’s fear.

The Belly of the Whale

Once past the barrier of extremes, the hero enters the Outlands: a dreamlike, hyperreal place where rules no longer apply and nothing can be assumed. This stage of “passing beyond” is key to a discovery of purpose; from outside, it resembles a kind of annihilation or death.

The new world reveals a fullness and dimensionality of life to the hero.

But the “betweenness” isn’t entered into lightly; the foolhardy or overconfident are soon undone. A hero’s task is to integrate the personal and cultural ghosts projected in this realm: some cannot, defensively blocking out the full experience.

Without honoring their commitment, there’s little to save the hero from defeat. But for others, their potential awaits.

What do you think of Joseph Campbell’s Hero Monomyth as it pertains to travel? Share your thoughts below.

Read the Series

• Part II, Heroic Travel: Navigating the Mythic Journey.
• Part III, Heroic Travel: The Mythic Art of Homecoming.

Photo: the euskadi 11’s photostream

The moment we stepped off the bus, my panic set in. No, I take that back – the moment I looked out the window as the bus pulled to a stop in Tunduma, the panic set in.

We should have arrived in Lusaka, Zambia about four hours prior. Instead, we left Dar, Tanzania two hours late, and were stopped by the police every 70K along the way. That means we made it to the border crossing way, way after closing.

So now, two white, American girls (we were 23 at the time, so I’m not quite sure I can say “women”) and a bus full of Tanzanians and Zambians had to find our way to an accommodation for the night. Guess who the crowd of locals outside the bus went after?

This memory, among others, makes me identify with what author Lynne Sharon Schwartz is apparently referring to in her book, Not Now, Voyager (I have yet to read it): travel torture. We often talk about the wonders of travel, our amazing and beautiful experiences, how it changes us and makes us better people – all of which is true.

But, there are also the flight delays and cancellations, (hopefully) getting through customs, having all of your money stolen, or being ditched in the middle of the Zambian bush with only the hope that some sort of transport would come your way say, in the next two weeks (yeah, second night of the aforementioned bus ride).

And often, our memory projects those challenges onto the big screen, warping them into something that was painful yes, but beautiful and exciting too.

An article in the Boston Globe has Schwartz quoting the French philosopher Albert Camus: “There is no pleasure in traveling, and I look upon it more as an occasion for spiritual testing.” A spiritual growth test for each of us individually, no doubt.

But are we testing ourselves and the places we visit in a more negative fashion?

Consuming Other Cultures

Schwartz continues:

Preferring to stay put is practically disreputable in a cultural climate that prizes mobility, haste, multitasking and optimum consumption of sights, sounds, and experiences. An economy rooted in the culture of greed must place a premium on consuming rather than producing anything, even experience. . . . To keep the whole machinery running and growing, we need to consume other cultures at the great mall of travel, and we grow bloated on them.

Ah, yes, not the side of spiritual travel at which most of us would like to take a look. We ponder the environmental affects of air travel, the good and the bad of tourism economies throughout the world, but rarely the personal implications of our addiction to new experiences.

The way in the West is certainly to go out and consume rather than sit, ponder, and produce.

My drive to see the world and experience other cultures took me to Zambia all those years ago, but was it also the desire to escape from myself? Maybe there was a deeper lesson for me in the middle-of-nowhere bus drop than I realized.

Do you agree with Schwartz’s negative interpretation of travel? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: jurvetson

Here’s a new way to sell India: it’s like boot camp.

Instead of your regular calming, relaxing (or at least eye-opening) yogic/meditative/slum experience in the country of Buddha, the Taj Mahal, and Bollywood, apparently the latest way to get Westerners into the country is to make it seem as if they have signed up at Gold’s Gym.

Just the purgation/core strengthening route instead of a step class.

In a recent article on the Jakarta Post site entitled, Nature’s Boot Camp, the author notes:

The average day begins at 5:30 a.m. to the sound of bhajan…once up, patients participate in yogic kriyas – a process that induces controlled vomiting or purgation of the nasal, stomach and intestinal pipes…those prone to migraines are encouraged to insert a thin piece of rubbery wire through the nose and out the mouth. Asthma patients often swallow a thin muslin-like cloth down the esophagus to remove blockages. Others drink repeatedly a mixture of hot water, salt and cardamom.

Sounds like a lovely time.

Yes, liquid-based diets are to follow, along with whirlpool baths and your everyday enema or colonic. But make sure to enjoy the “pretty setting with benches to view the sunset over a pristine lake and lots of greenery infused with rare species of migratory birds.”

Ok, given, I actually know people that have gone to India for such cleanses, Panchakarma’s and the like. I’ve been through similar cleanses myself, and believe in their curative effects for the sick.

But really? This is how they are trying to sell India now? How many desperate-to-be-skinny/ “pure” wanna-be famous people are salivating over their assistant’s computer right now?

I will make sure to not spend $1500 for an Executive Single Room or $8,000 for a Deluxe Hut a day to either a. see India, or b. do something that would cost me less than $100 for an entire cleanse at home. No thank you.

What do you think about packaging places in India as “nature’s boot camp”? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: NeoGaboX

Yoga teacher Hilary Carter began to notice how often she would look at the clock and notice it was 11:11. Or 2:22. Or 3:33.

Since she was already the type to be interested in such “coincidences,” she decided to start following the numbers, à la The Celestine Prophecy, to see where they would lead her.

After beginning to compile “past lives, premonitions, and number signs,” she found herself purchasing an ancient convent in Spain in order to renovate it. As Hot Indie News noted, after her purchase:

First, her financial backer died, then her first builder ended up in prison and the second builder became paralyzed in a tragic accident – and all this only scratches the surface.

Carter’s book, The 11.11 Code: Secrets of the Convent, goes deeper into the adventures that entailed, but also invites each of us to contemplate our own destiny, and the signs available to direct the process.

Facing One’s Destiny

I remember a time in my life where the idea of such signs, connections, and karma didn’t touch the surface of my brain. I’m sure some beliefs around destiny were hidden somewhere deep inside of me, but they were nowhere near my intellectual comprehension.

Photo: whatmegsaid

And yet now, I live by signs and connections (well, most of the time anyway). Doing so certainly makes life more interesting, more full, and makes me feel, well, more connected.

I think when I’m traveling, I see it most – and can imagine that many of you would agree. That’s part of why it can be so hard to come “home” sometimes, to get back into a daily routine that seems to lack spark, intrigue, or any sense of a life force.

New places provide a sensory overload that is stimulating and satisfying, and people that often think completely opposite from you (or exactly like you, which is even more amazing).

But what if you brought that feeling and view point back home into your daily life? That’s certainly part of what we try and keep alive here at Matador, and debate on how exactly to fulfill this quest.

Often, you have to radically alter your conceptions and perceptions of “home” and whether money or career will dictate your life. Yet this process is powerful in and of itself, and really, isn’t life about shifting, changing, and getting better?

Sometimes, all it takes is to “let go” in whatever way you personally need to. As my friend Amar says, “I take life where it takes me.” Now, that’s a motto to live by.

Do you live by following signs in your life, or do you think it’s a bunch of new-age bunk? Share your thoughts below.

Ninth grade partying / Photo: Ashley Sebrell

I spent this past weekend surrounded by old high school friends. One was getting married (the one sitting in the chair in the photo to the right), and his wedding brought quite a few of our old “group” together.

There is something special about seeing people that knew you way back when. Probably the more time that passes, and the older a person gets, the more special it seems.

You tend to look back on the good times more than the challenging ones. At the rehearsal dinner, I began to think about those days of field parties in the country, fast food lunches, and…bouts of drastic depression. Ok, some of the bad stuff crept back in.

I’ve changed in innumerable ways since then (Frosty’s are no longer a part of my vocabulary, and bawling for hours on end is thankfully an occurrence of the past), yet, unlike the usual dwelling followed by patting myself on the back for how much I’ve “evolved,” this thought process stopped abruptly. I realized I no longer needed to think about how much I’ve changed.

Why was this the case? For the last 10 years, I’ve been trying to prove (to myself more than anyone else) how far I’ve come, how much more worthy I am. So what really is so different?

My spirit.

The Importance of Belief

I now believe that connecting to our spirit is the key to really and truly falling in love with ourselves.

It’s often hard to see that many of us look outside of ourselves for that blessing of self worth. We’re pretty much taught from day one that what counts is what other people think and feel about us, so who is really to blame here? Plus, for the most part, we can’t even see that this is our approach.

A long conversation with one friend about his own struggle with finding himself, and his worries over what we remembered and thought about his antics in high school, forced that click of recognition.

l now feel in my bones something that has been said to me time and time again over those last 10 years: to have others look at you with appreciation, you must first appreciate yourself. And the way to attain that appreciation for the self and connect to spirit is to gain some understanding of all those other people out there roaming the earth.

Traveling Spirit

Three months after I graduated from college, I left North Carolina for California. I didn’t know why or what I was going to do; I just knew I had to get out of there.

A much more refined (and less blurry) group / Photo: Jim Ernst

I can now understand what I thought was a drive in me to explore the “unknown” was simply a gentle, intuitive knowing of a process to find my spirit.

The same is not necessarily true for everyone, though I think the generation I find myself a part of seems to have this drive – or gentle knowing – in droves (just take a quick look around Matador).

We often discuss both inner and outer travel here at BNT. This can mean different things to different people, and really can be found in any direction you look. But how exactly did outer travel help me connect to my spirit?

For me, trekking to new places has been about normalizing myself, in a way. As my friend John put it last weekend, I was “always searching for something.” What was cloaked in self-esteem issues was actually my spirit’s ‘gentle approach’ to essentially making me move my ass.

I was propelled to find out how to feel normal, and even possibly – gasp! – truly appreciated. At the same time, I learned to not worry so much about what others thought (or what I think they thought) about me.

Sharing the Desire for Contentment

Whether glancing around at the expats doting the Globe cafe in Prague, or being the only white woman dancing to old school Michael Jackson at a club in Lusaka, Zambia, I began sensing a pattern of purpose.

The more I travel, the more people I meet, the more I feel at my stomach’s base that we are all just trying to eek out some happiness, contentment, and peace in this life.

I admit, it is still sometimes hard to feel connected in a strong political climate where I don’t agree with what the majority (or vocal minority) want. But if you get to the root, even the “enemy” is just searching for a little happiness, contentment and peace in their life, working toward it in the way they know best.

All the places and people I have seen and met, a mere dent in the globe as compared to many of you reading this, led me to return to that place in which I never felt “normal”: home. Only this time, I found myself in full appreciation of those people, my teenage years, and any abnormality I ever felt.

And that, my friends, comes from the power of spirit.

How have you felt returning home after a long journey? Share your thoughts below.

Feature photo: tipiro

Photo: Karin Leperi

The wailing of the conch shells heralds the start of our Temazcal ceremony at the Real Resort in Cancun. We were an unlikely trio of women that evening: a New York City Jewish beauty, an African-American radio talk show host from Chicago, and me – a red-haired California transplant and aging divorcee living in Maryland.

Although strangers initially, we were about to embark on a journey of purification, detoxification, and rebirth that would ultimately bond us into a special sisterhood. This sisterhood is the Temazcal, a traditional Mayan sacred ritual of cleansing and symbolic renewal.

Lucio, our shaman and guide, tells us that he performs this ceremony to celebrate the New Moon and Full Moon each month. He says that since Temazcal is a holistic healing ritual, it can be done for couples before their wedding as well as honeymooners, vacationers and individuals seeking to commemorate new beginnings.

For the three of us, we each had our own reasons for entering the dome.

Sweat Lodge of the Mayans

Photo: Karin Leperi

According to Lucio, ‘Temazcal’ comes from the Mayan word temazcalli and literally translates as the “steam house” or “sweat lodge,” a term more commonly used by Native Americans. “The Temazcal is a health care method used by ancient American cultures for healing and curing in a preventive and corrective way.”

“Mayans thought that every single object was alive – a chair, a table,” adds Lucio. “So they treated the Temazcal as a living entity, as a being with soul. They also believed that sickness arose when the soul was weak and viewed the Temazcal as a holistic healing method to deal with the total body and soul.”

Lucio explains that the Temazcal experience helps to seek our inner identity, to develop empathy for our brethren, and to promote open communication:

Temazcal helps us find what we are looking for, whether it is introspection of self, conscious awareness, or simply the art of meditation. The process helps us find the magical and forgotten art of open conversation, of listening and of revealing from the heart. It helps us realize that we are all part of the same energy force and that we share something bigger than self. We are all brethren.

Calling the Initiates – The Smudging Ceremony

Clothed in white cotton garments, an embroidered sash tied around his waist, Lucio secures his coal-black hair with a beaded red headband around his forehead. Priests and priestesses dressed in colorful ceremonial garb guard the way to the temazcal.

Photo: Karin Leperi

Lucio asks the first initiate to approach the dome-shaped adobe sweat lodge – a symbol of the mother’s womb. Elise from New York is the first.

Standing in front of the entrance with her hands outstretched, Lucio methodically waves a bundle of smoldering herbs, fanning the swirls of smoke around her body, in tribute to the four winds. This is repeated for each of the rest of us.

This ritual, a common practice among many indigenous tribes, is known as smudging – the burning of herbs for emotional, psychic, and spiritual purification. The concept is that the trail of smoke will attract and disperse negative energy, pushing it into another realm.

This prepares the individual to enter the ceremony as being both physically and spiritually cleansed from bad spirits and negative thoughts, thus permitting healing to occur without negative distractions from either the healer or the participant.

It is said that the elders teach that individuals must enter the sweat lodge – the Temazcal – with a good heart and walk in a sacred manner, so that they may be purified and healed of past wounds.

Now that we have been symbolically cleansed, each of us in turn takes a pinch of tobacco to add to the flame outside the Temazcal entrance. We then honor our brethren by saying, “to all my relations” and enter clockwise, through heavy water vapor and murky darkness, until we find our special space.

The Time of No Time

The wooden doors are closed, exposing us to the full brunt of burning copal resin and heavy, hot vapor. I feel my breathing as it becomes heavier. Darkness is interrupted only by the diffused red glow from the hot lava rocks.

Lucio declares that this is “the time of no time” – where everything from the past merges into the present. Where there is no time, there is only our presence.

The traditional ritual begins with a bundle of aromatic herbs and sweet smelling grasses. In turn, we swivel to our left and tap our partner on the shoulders and torso with a bundle of aromatic herbs. Each tap releases the herbal essence and permeates the thick air.

The essence penetrates the pores of our skin, releasing toxins and symbolic poisons that are in our lives.

We are asked to state our intentions and to honor our air time by opening up with “Ahoo” and ending our conversation with “Ahoo.” This respects our talking time and ensures we do not transgress on another’s conversation. We each reveal an inner truth about ourselves, trusting others to respect our vulnerabilities.

Sweat Your Prayers

By now, I am sweating profusely through every pore; beads of sweat trickle down my forehead, neck, torso, and extremities. My breathing feels labored, so I lay on the ground to breathe the cooler, less dense air. More revelations follow, and then Lucio has us douse ourselves with ladles of cooling water.

Photo: Karin Leperi

The cycle repeats: more sweating, more cooling water. We are asked to share a happy childhood memory. Easy for some; more difficult for others. Then we focus on conscious and rhythmic breathing – first deep and drawn, followed by shallow and rapid.

Then there is the belly laugh – a cosmic joy that makes light of ourselves, yet connects us with the positive energy source. Without reservation, we burst forth with sounds of utter joy from deep within our bellies (our howls of laughter must surely have people outside the Temazcal wondering what is going on).

The doors are finally drawn open, marking the end of the ceremony. The late afternoon sun lightens the interior of our ceremonial abode. Cool air rushes in; jolting us to reality, grounding us in the here and now.

The three of us walk the 50 feet to the spa for a quick cold pool plunge designed to bring down our body temperature. We are then brought prepared plates of fresh fruits to restore our mineral balance.

Giddy from the experience, we agree that we feel peaceful in a serene sort of way. We openly embrace each other and our new found friendships, recognizing that we are now initiates of the Sisterhood of the Temazcal.

What do you think about the cleansing ritual of the Temazcal? Share your thoughts below.

The nose knows the beach is best / Photo: oblivion head

Recent studies in the world of nutrition have found that our nose knows what foods are best for us.

Our taste preferences for certain foods actually begin with how they smell, and researchers have found these preferences may be linked to the nutritional value of the food.

Not sure how McDonald’s fits into this scenario. But the idea of following your nose for the health benefits led me to ponder about what it might mean to follow your nose when it comes to travel.

No, I don’t think you can smell your way to the best locale of the moment. Yet, what connects the idea of following your nose when it comes to both food and travel is basic intuition. It’s the belief that our bodies know best, or at least a whole lot better than our brains do.

Instinct and intuition aren’t exactly the same thing, but they can both fall into the category of showing up as that first “hit.” This is the hit we often play down once we begin to think about the pros and cons of an issue.

So, what if you decided to follow the first hit you have about where you want to travel next, and stop yourself from going through the pros and cons process? You hop on Hotwire to find a last minute cheap hotel in that town you’ve been wanting to visit, or you log on to Couchsurfing and email a few people to see if they have an open spot.

Maybe Craigslist has a cheap vacation rental, or even a trade. If none of those pan out, you know it’s not meant to be. Or you throw the tent in the car, hit the supermarket to fill your cooler with food and ice, and just take off.

This may be easier to do starting with say, a day trip out of town, but who knows? That day trip may lead you to an overnight, a week away, or to becoming a complete travel vagabond.

Or you may end up back at home because you kind of have work and a family to take care of, and that’s perfectly fine, too.

Yes, it’s a bit of traveling without a plan, but it might just lead you to exactly where you are supposed to be.

Do you think follow your nose travel is a viable option? Share your thoughts below.

Community Connection

See how following her instincts led to amazing travels in Emily Hansen’s piece, Reflections From A Female Solo Traveler. Experience the taste of travel freedom in Carlo Alcos’ article, Why You Should Travel Independently on the Trans Siberian Railway.

Photo: h.koppdelaney

Many of you have probably seen coverage of the 40th Anniversary of the first moon landing.

Undoubtedly an amazing feat, the article that interested me most tackled how traveling to the moon changed the lives of the 24 American men (yes, no women) who went there.

Turns out quite a few of the men ended up taking life different paths upon their return to Earth. Buzz Aldrin became an alcoholic, James Irwin founded the religious organization, High Flight Foundation, and Charles Duke formed the Duke Ministry for Christ.

Astronaut Edgar Mitchell, who rode on Apollo 16 in 1971, had this to say about the adventure:

What I do remember is the awesome experience of recognizing the universe was not simply random happenstance…that there was something more operating than just chance.

Mitchell founded the Institute for Noetic Sciences, a leading institute for consciousness studies, upon his return. He also maintains that UFOs are real, and that the US government has been covering them up for 60 years.

The Need to Create Labels

According to the article, an urban myth exists that those who went to the moon come back pretty looney. But David Sington, a documentary filmmaker who has met several of the astronauts, says that simply isn’t true. Rather, the trip gave the astronauts “the ultimate perspective.”

I find it laughable that we, as a culture, so often feel the need to put people in the crazy box because they have had some form of spiritual enlightenment. Most of us who have traveled, even just to the next town over, understand the deep implications that come with knowing a different perspective and place.

It makes perfect sense to me that going to the moon would profoundly change a person’s view of this life and what happens after it has ended.

Then again, there are also those who say the moon landing was a complete hoax.

What do you think of the spiritual shifts felt by the astronauts who went to the moon? Share your thoughts below.

Kids getting high / Photo: xav

Highs. They’re good. Much, much better than lows. It certainly can be easy to turn that frown upside down with a little bit of chemical motivation. But what about the natural highs we can experience during our travels?

This doesn’t have to be about hitting every pub in town or scoring a bag of something that is hopefully-more-than-weeds from the seedy park downtown.

In fact, this type of behavior doesn’t make for good long-term travel; you’re just exhausted after a few days.

So in the great tradition of counting down what is best in life, here are five of the best ways to get high while traveling without worrying about ending up in a foreign prison.

1. Soak in the city life.

Don’t get me wrong; the countryside is always beautiful. But whenever I step into a new city, whether Rome, Italy or Raleigh, North Carolina, I immediately begin to soak in the culture of the people that inhabit that place. The cafes, the bars, the shops – maybe even happening upon a pig-pickin’ in a park (definitely a possibility in Raleigh) – all make my head spin with delight.

2. Randomly run into someone halfway across the world that you haven’t seen in years.

Photo: J.J. Verhoef

When I had some time to kill before meeting my parents in Germany, I knew I couldn’t afford to kill that time in London. So I hopped on over to Amsterdam, where the minute I got off the train, lo and behold, I see a girl walking by that I went to high school with – in eastern North Carolina, for chrissakes.

Yes, us Rocky Mount folk like to think we are special and represent worldwide, but the reality is, this can happen to anyone. And when it does, you can’t help but think, “Man, Universe, you-are-good.”

3. Participate in extreme sports with people you don’t know.

What better way to make a best friend for life than to have your lives be put in danger together?

Whether you decide to go jump off a mountain in Interlaken, Switzerland as a part of a group outing, or you participate in a white-water-rafting trip on the Class Five rapids on the Zambezi River, there is rarely a lack of conversation over beers after said life-threatening adventure.

You can end up talking all damn night, and maybe for weeks to come.

4. Have a spiritual epiphany.

This can mean different things for different people. It can also come in different forms – for some by sitting in a pew of the oldest known church in the world, for others by meditating for two weeks at a 19th century mansion in Poland.

A few people have been known to reach enlightenment through a few shots of absinthe in Prague (OK, not exactly a “natural” high).

But for most people who go beyond vacationing into the whole other world of being a traveler, there is usually some in-depth discovery about the self, the world, and all that is stirred up in between the two.

And it doesn’t always have to include a hangover. Really.

5. Sink your teeth into that thick, juicy burger.

Photo: Marshall Astor – Food Pornographer

The first time I went to Prague was after I had been studying in Florence for five months. Our weekend in the Czech Republic consisted of these four highlights: eating at TGI Friday’s, Hard Rock Cafe, Pizza Hut, and Subway.

Yep, I ain’t afraid to say it. These are all places I never eat in the US. And yet, ten years later, that weekend still sticks out in my mind above most of the others.

I’ve been back since, and eaten the requisite Czech food of pork and dumplings (and some fish with the head still on).

But there is something about eating food from home, especially the first time you go on a long traveling adventure, that is well, kinda orgasmic. Most certainly if it includes a TGI Friday’s bottle-mixed margarita.

Darn, there I go with the whole alcohol-thing again.

What are some other natural highs from travel? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: creativity103

What are some of the deep philosophical questions we ask in life?

Usually these concern health, life, death, or when Grey’s Anatomy will finally be canceled (that show needs to go).

Now imagine that you’re asked to answer those deep philosophical questions while 30,000 feet in the air?

That’s the case for Dr. Bernard E Johnson, an ordained minister who recently wrote an interesting article on the 10 questions he most often gets asked during flights. No-holds-barred cross examinations include the following light and easy fare:

• Does the current economic crisis have spiritual roots?
• Why are so few people truly happy?
• Is the conflict in the Middle East leading to Armageddon?
• Why do bad things happen to good people?

The good minister doesn’t attempt to give an answer to any of these questions (at least in the article) but simply notes that they all touch upon the deeper, “spiritual dimension of life.”

Which got me thinking – What would I ask a minister, or a guru, rabbi, or Buddhist philosopher (and the list goes on) if I sat next to one on a plane? And what would I expect as an answer?

Knowing myself relatively well, I’m sure I’d seek out if they were even moderately intuitive…and then ask them what they could tell me about myself (narcissistic? Probably. Keeps me focused? Definitely).

Beyond The Self

After that, I’d ask what brought them to a life of serving God, or other deity, and if they agree with the rules placed upon them. These are different for each religion, obviously, but for Catholics, what about that no marriage rule? Could that be part of the reason such sexual scandal exists in the church?

Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t ask that.

I would definitely ask the person’s view on women in terms of leadership within that particular religion or spiritual organization. That reveals plenty with just a little bit of information.

I suppose that I wouldn’t expect this “leader” to have any of the big answers in life, any more than the rest of us. I would certainly love to discuss the idea of the economic crisis having spiritual roots and implications, but I’ve already come to my own conclusions around that (of course, I’m open to more thoughts on the subject).

Chances are, they’re searching too, because they are human just like the rest us.

What would you ask a spiritual leader if you sat next to one on a plane? Share your thoughts below.

Loki, the Norse trickster. / Photo: Wikipedia

For years I’ve been on the trail of discovery. Actually, that’s not quite accurate: I’m on the trail of what it really means to discover something, popularly referred to as “inner travel.”

It’s a slow-going process – like any investigation, intuition is a faster guide than fact, but you need the facts if you’re going to extend intuition further.

You start to wonder if there really is a decent way to define it. My intuition says there is, but there aren’t always facts to back it up. Sometimes, though, I spy a parallel that helps shed more light on it – this time, in travel as an “in-between” state.

Inner travel is extremely difficult to describe, I suspect, because it has so much to do with inner meaning.

Meaning isn’t physically real. You can’t hold it in your hand or buy it from a catalog. But we do recognize meaning in physical things – concepts like beauty, truth and love find expression in art, reason and spouse.

Meaning is liminal, existing in an “in-between” place, like the threshold of a doorway. Everyone knows what love is, they can’t define it; most people can describe what they enjoy in a lover, but it’s almost impossible to explain why.

As Lou Reed might say, it’s somewhere “between thought and expression.” And so it is with meaningful travel.

How do we talk about these ideas clearly, if what’s meaningful for you isn’t necessarily for me? Answer that one, and you’re on your way to becoming an “inner travel agent.” But perhaps if we study other liminal ideas, we can get clues to the journey.

Meet The Trickster

Photo: Yvonne

In mythology, there’s one character that typifies the liminality of inner travel: the trickster. While other deities mainly act for the scheme that best benefits them, tricksters are more selfless, appearing to serve a design of wider scope.

The trickster is an archetype, or fundamental human theme. Appearing throughout world religion and mythology, the trickster causes strife or commotion, seeming to live for chaos.

What they really inspire, however, is change; they represent the fickleness of nature and “shaking things up.” While not necessarily evil, they represent a break from the shared narrative of culture. Tricksters include the gods Loki and Hermes, coyote from North American belief, the sly fox from European fables, and many others.

There are four significant traits of the trickster:

1. They are “go-betweens.” Tricksters are able to move with relative ease among contrasting regions or levels of being. They have the power to escape order, crossing the threshold into another version of it. Hermes was the only god able to enter the underworld regularly and without difficulty.
2. They embody inconsistency. Rather than enforcing one view of reality, tricksters support the paradox of multiple views. They follow the guiding principle of improvisational theater: you never deny another person’s reality, you only build upon it. Sun Wukong, the Chinese monkey god, could change each hair on his body into a double of himself.
3. They have “smart luck.” Tricksters are always prepared for the unprepared because they hold their ideas lightly. There really are no accidents in the liminal perspective, only opportunities for discovery and insight: you simply play through. When Loki bet his head in a wager – and lost – he agreed to let the winners take his head as long as they don’t harm his neck.
4. They have no home. The trickster is closely associated with the road or constant motion. Hermes is the god of roads and escort of travelers. The Nigerian trickster god Edshu walked down the road in a hat colored blue on one side, red on the other. Half the farmers would say, “Did you see that god with the blue hat?” while the others argued it was red. Edshu would further complicate matters by walking the other way with his hat on backwards!

The Trickster Is Alive and Well

Tricksters are much like travelers: they stir up controversy and discussion as unsung heroes for cultural change. They’re often unpopular or misunderstood, but they speak with an uncompromised voice and have their eyes on a more distant horizon.

The Joker / Photo: LA Times

In his fascinating book, Trickster Makes This World: Mischief, Myth, and Art, Lewis Hyde suggests that the trickster continues to shape reality.

He points to mortal examples such as Pablo Picasso, Marcel Duchamp, John Cage, Allen Ginsberg, Maxine Hong Kingston, Frederick Douglass as liminal creators. Throughout literature, it’s characters like the Artful Dodger and the Great Gatsby, Hunter S. Thompson and Huck Finn, Robin Hood and Don Juan, who embody the trickster.

Everyone knows a rogue or rebel with an undeniable charisma, one who can cause a fair amount of pandemonium.

Yet as much as they turn things upside-down, you’re more grateful for them than words permit. The trickster is everywhere among us, and the color they fill our lives with makes them so much more extraordinary.

It’s this spirit of travel I’m trying to capture, one that’s close enough to touch but always slips from grasp. Just as it seems I’ve got the idea surrounded, it disappears and I’m left with only a short string of footprints.

But though sometimes maddening, the chase is wonderful – as liminal as the trickster gods (and goddesses) of meaning themselves. I learned a long time ago that the most alive you’ll ever be is in pursuit of that which is just outside of your reach.

The most beautiful things always are.

Dedicated to my wife Nathalie – happy fifth anniversary, moya krasivaya zhena!

What are some examples the “trickster” has played in your life? Share your ideas below!

Complaint Free Bracelets / Photo: A Complaint Free World

Seems the law of attraction is even hitting the church.

Will Bowen, a minister in Kansas City, Missouri, has set fire to a movement aptly titled, A Complaint Free World.

The purpose of the movement is simple: go 21 consecutive days without complaining. To help you along, wear the group’s signature purple bracelet, and every time you make a complaint, switch it to your other wrist.

Some people are able to make the 21 days in a month; others take a year. Bowen says that it takes an average of four to six months to complete the allotted three weeks complaint free, but that awareness of how much we complain just continues to build through the process.

Like the Law Of Attraction, the idea is that the more we complain, the more we have to complain about. Being positive brings positive changes to our lives, and frees us up in many different ways – emotionally, physically, energetically.

So I began to wonder, what would complaint free travel look like? Oh, lawdy.

Complaint Free Travel

One of my favorite points that Bowen makes is that most of us recognize how much other people complain, but not how much we ourselves complain.

Even thinking about all the things that have gone wrong in my travels, things like:

• Flying out of Oakland for a four month jaunt, hungover, not fully moved out of my apartment although my lease ended that day, and arriving at 5:40am only to find out my flight was the next day;
• Several pairs of underwear falling out of my backpack as they kicked us out of a bus in the dark of night, nowhere, Zambia;
• Balling my eyes out as I caught the last train out of my semester abroad in Florence with two huge suitcases that I could barely move and then realized I was on the wrong train,

All of these make me cringe at how much I’ve complained on the road.

And the truth is, most of those “things that went wrong” make for the best damn stories when you come back (especially to write about).

Change Your Experience

Just smile/ Feature Photo: JAIRO BD

Complaint free travel means you’d have to hold your tongue when you get to sit on a runway for five hours waiting to take off.

It means you’d have to smile and mean it when miscommunication occurs at a restaurant where you think you’ve ordered garlic tofu and instead you get garlic rooster balls.

It also means that coming back to your hostel and finding a couple having sex on the sleeping bag you so neatly laid out earlier for easy access after pub closing time would dignify only a request to move to another mattress.

And yet, not complaining may open you up to people, places, and adventures that would otherwise have been nixed.

Think about landing the perfect job because you met someone on an organized tour that your friends deemed not hip enough, seeing the most amazing landscape on Earth when you decide to visit somewhere that is “known” to be a criminals haven, or getting to know the love of your life by sitting on that airport tarmac for five hours.

Welcome to traveling with gratitude.

How would complaint-free travel affect your trips? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: Tina Keller

I quit my “day” job about a year and a half ago. It was the second time I left a job mostly so I could take off traveling for at least three months.

Each time provided me with insight into myself, the world, and eventually, the direction in which I should head (although it was not always so clear in the beginning).

Recently, I found myself looking through the pictures from my “first” trip – the store-fronts from above in the Islington neighborhood of London, the hostel in Zambia where five of us cooked dinner and drank cases of Castle beer over cards, the flooded river running through Stein that kept us indoors most of that September in Germany.

At that moment I received an email containing the piece The Survival Dance and the Sacred Dance.

The author, Hugh MacLeod, relates an excerpt from the book Soulcraft, by Bill Plotkin. The idea is that we each have to first and foremost set up a “survival” dance, i.e. find a job that pays the bills, whether we like that job or not.

Then we are free to search for our “sacred,” or soul dance, something that is our true calling in this life.

Plotkin writes:

Everybody has to have a survival dance. Finding and creating one is our first task upon leaving our parents’ or guardians’ home. [...] To find your sacred dance, after all, you will need to take significant risks. You might need to move against the grain of your family and friends.

Taking “significant risks” is often involved in traveling. In order to really see the ins and outs of a country you haven’t been to before, to really gain knowledge and understanding of the culture you are spending a relatively short amount of time in, it takes putting ourselves on the line in a way we rarely do at home.

Conversing in a different language, attempting to make real connections with locals, figuring out which areas aren’t safe and not having a home to hunker down in when travel gets overwhelming – these are risks we do not deal with on a daily basis.

And yet the decisions we make while traveling actually affect our decisions once we return home.

After that first trip, I was called to study health and the environment, which I can’t imagine would have happened without seeing gorgeous, but frayed African lands or an organic, vegan farm (yes, vegan) in Germany.

Moving to the beats of dhol / Photo: prakhar

After my second trip, after memories of eating incredible seafood in Tasmania, seeing parts of the former East Germany that still look like the former East Germany, and kicking it with ex-pats in a dark and steamy bars in Prague, I was called to write about it all.

But we also must hone “psychological self-reliance,” or we may get thrown by the few unfriendly, unreliable, or downright crooks we meet, and suddenly believe everyone from that particular area is that way. As Plotkin writes:

By honing psychological self-reliance, you will find it easier to keep focused on your goals in the face of resistance or incomprehension, initial failure or setbacks, or economic or organizational obstacles. And spiritual self-reliance will maintain your connection with the deepest truths and what you’ve learned about how the world works.

And what if you run out of money months before the end of your trip or realize it would be easier (and thousands of dollars cheaper) to fly to home instead of continue to journey? The decisions we have to make can sometimes be painful at best, heartbreaking at worst.

But the good news: eventually, it gets easier. Plotkin reveals the universe wants you to find your soul dance:

What your soul wants is what the world also wants (and needs). Your human community will say yes to your soul work and will, in effect, pay you to do it. Gradually, your sacred dance becomes what you do and your former survival dance is no longer need.

Somehow each of us has to take part in the survival dance as we travel, but not forget our sacred dance, or the reason we wanted to travel in the first place.

Community Connection

Need some advice on the advice of your inner voice? Check out Ian MacKenzie’s post What’s Your Inner Voice Telling You?

What risks have you taken in the survival and sacred dance of travel? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: quinn anya

I spent Saturday night doing something pretty cool: I walked on coals that were upwards of 1200 degrees.

Ok, I didn’t spend the whole night doing it; probably more like five seconds or so.

But the group I was a part of did a lot of amazing exercises to build up to it, like swinging around a fire stick, in order to prepare ourselves for the big finale.

Firewalking entails walking on an 8-10 feet bed of hot coals, which have been heating up underneath a fire for several hours.

One person takes a walk at a time (not a run like Pam did on The Office), ending the ritual by placing their feet in a bucket of cold water so as to soak them, and get rid of any pieces of coal that might have stuck between the toes.

Basically, it was an incredible experience. Here are the reasons why you should contemplate firewalking if you get the chance:

1. Challenge yourself to overcome fear.

Everyone feels fear, it’s a natural human emotion. But what if that fear keeps you from doing something you really want to do? Or makes you believe you don’t want to do something that could end up being an amazing experience?

Sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between a gut feeling and fear. One of the main points of firewalking is to face a really large fear and connect to what is going on inside of you right at that moment. Ulitmately, you must decide whether you are going to take a walk or hang back, both of which are valid and have their own lessons.

2. No one truly knows why most people don’t get burned.

Photo: Patty Morris

Theories include that the moisture on the foot creates a layer, or barrier, that prevents the foot from actually contacting the coals, that coals are poor conductors of heat, that the experience is all about mind over matter (the first two theories are discredited here).

There is also the little notion of “walking across burning coals is a sacred art, said to unite human will with spirit fire.” Beautiful.

3. Realize that your body is an amazing tool that can go beyond what you thought it could do.

If you had asked me earlier on Saturday if I was going to actually walk on the burning coals that evening, I would have said, “Eh, probably.” If you asked me 10 minutes before we lined up to take the walk if I was going to do it, I might have uttered, “Um, hell no.”

But as our instructor Sarah noted, you will know if and when you are supposed to go. And even though your heart will pound, and your palms will sweat, you will take that walk and be amazed at your own capacity to take on fire.

Then you’ll wonder what else your body is capable of doing.

4. It provides an opportunity to have a truly spiritual experience.

Many people are searching for answers during our current economic and environmental meltdown. The Spiritual Research Foundation defines a spiritual experience as one that is “perceived with the sixth sense, i.e. through the medium of the subtle sense organs.”

Firewalking is one way we can take part in something that will undoubtedly go beyond the mind’s comprehension and make us feel closer to whatever God or deity we believe in.

5. The “war wounds” that may show up on your feet are great for street cred.

I mean, c’mon now, it’s pretty damn cool to be able to tell people you walked on fire, no? And yes, I do have one large blister on my right foot to prove I was there.

On the recommendation of our guide, I used a reflexology chart to determine what organ of my body this blistered area corresponds to, as some believe this can be a message of health issues. (So firewalking can be informative, too).

Resources for firewalking around the world:

• The European Office of Firewalking Institute of Research and Education
• The Firewalking Institute of Asia
• Sundoor Firewalk Finder in North America.

What is your take on the idea of firewalking as a spiritual endeavor, or have you had this experience yourself? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: kolart71

According to life coach Cynthia Morris, Lewis and Clark had one. So did Charles Lindbergh, and Amelia Earhart (though not on her last trip, obviously).

Travel shrines are portable spirit-in-a-box.

Packed properly, they are sturdy and lightweight, which makes them easy to slip into your bag. When you arrive at your destination, set your travel shrine up in your room.

The great thing about these shrines is that they can pertain to any religion or spiritual affiliation, meaningful event/s, or be a way to keep that special someone close to your heart.

If you are feeling wild and crazy, they can be all three.

While you should feel free to include anything you wish in your mobile shrine-o-rama, here’s a quick list of items in case you need a little inspiration:

1. The Box

This can vary in size, shape, and outward appearance. It can be a shoe box you got after finally breaking down and buying a new pair of kicks in Spain, or it can be the box-which-holds-the-Christmas-cards that you’ll never get around to writing and/or sending. Decorate as you like with pictures of the Vatican or Duran Duran, or stick a picture of the Earth smack dab in the middle, and you are good to go.

2. Protection

Find a piece that you identify with that symbolizes protection. Whether a St. Christopher medal if you are Catholic, Foo Dogs if you are into Feng Shui, or a pentacle necklace if you are Wiccan, carrying around something that you believe will keep you safe is a powerful signal to the travel gods.

3. Meaning

I try my best to pick up something from every place I visit. And no, not slow globes or little bells stamped with the city’s name (not that there is anything wrong with that). Usually, it is something that catches my eye when hiking through a forest, such as a large nut that has fallen from a tree.

Photo: chanchan222

4. Power

While traveling, you are bound to happen upon some goodies on the street or in dumpsters, like my favorite-ever find, a Supergirl action figure that can punch away my fear or irritation by simply pushing the lever on her back (awesome).

5. Healing

Of course, I do purchase pieces from stores such as native stones, local healing herbs and spices, and you usually can’t persuade me not to hand over my money for some amazing crystal or spiritual statue/picture/painting, etc.

6. Pictures

Gotta have ‘em, whether of your beloved dog, Rover, to remind you of the steady ground beneath your feet when you ran with him in the park, or of crazy Aunt Mildred to remind you no matter who you encounter on the road, you have a more insane person genetically-linked to you.

Pictures make us laugh, cry, and feel connected. Do yourself a favor and pick out one for every possible mood.

Yes, I tend toward a certain end of the spiritual spectrum, but that’s not to imply that you need these particular materials for your own travel shrine. Take along whatever you feel is important to you, will keep you grounded when faced with adversity, but at the same time, you can let go of if lost, or well, you know…stolen.

What are other items you would want to include in your travel shrine? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: jaykendall

Last week, I went to get a massage after having pulled something in my neck (still not sure what) while practicing a new dance routine.

As soon as the massage therapist touched my shoulder, he said, “You really need a good soak at Harbin.”

Ah yes, Harbin Hot Springs. Located in the mountains of Northern California about an hour north of Napa wine country, Harbin is thought of by some as a healing center for the body and soul.

Others think of it as more of a seedy pick-up joint, or at the very least, a place one is likely to get molested.

I have personally never had a problem the dozen or so times I’ve been there, but know plenty of people that have, including a male friend. Harbin is a bit different than many hot spring getaways, since it also acts as a retreat center and boasts a community of free-spirited people that live there.

Hot springs have traditionally been a respite for the weak and ill, or a place to deepen one’s spiritual practice:

Natural hot springs are often located in areas long considered by the indigenous peoples native to the local area as holy and sacred ground…Native American tribes treated (and still do) sacred hot springs and the surrounding land with deep respect, emotionally, spiritually and physically.

Yet there seems to be a growing consensus among some folk that going to hot springs doesn’t afford the freedom to achieve meditative body bliss, but instead they have been infiltrated with new-age types looking for a good time:

Exquisite natural setting and incredible hot springs that bring in some of the most sexiest people I’ve seen. I am so into the drama-free affection of FWB (friend with benefits) and this is the perfect setting for some time for getting away from your day-to-day.

Hmmm.

Still, there are others who think this type of behavior occurs only few and far between. I chuckled at Ubersheist’s comparison of skiing and “hotspringing” on Soak.net:

Skiing misconception: There must be loads of “ski bunnies” and snowboard chicks that’re ripe for the meetin’! Hotspringing misconception: You’re in a beautiful location with little (if any) clothes on, so free-loving hippy chicks must be plentiful! The retort to both is a big, fat WRONG. Both are mostly populated by single straight males who only go to enjoy the experience, and (in general) the few females that do show up are almost always with their male significant other.

For locations of hot springs all over the world, check out 10 Countries Where You Can Enjoy Hot Springs, and learn how to take a proper Chinese soak in GuiJu: Rules of the Traditional Chinese Hot Spring Baths.

Do you think hot springs have become a haven for the seedy or for the most part, still maintain their sacred, spiritual roots? Share your thoughts below.

Feature photo: who.log.why

Photo: Meanest Indian

With the success of the Oscar winning film, Slumdog Millionaire, “slum tourism” is on the rise.

This type of travel, sometimes referred to as “poorism,” guides tourists through the slums of cities in India, Africa, and Mexico, among other destinations.

These tours are often run by those hailing from the West, such as Chris Way of Reality Tours and Travel, in collaboration with locals.

But what does this type of travel mean for the people who live in the slums? Hardly surprising, there is huge debate over whether or not slum tourism is ethical.

Eric Weiner adds a new spin to the discussion.

In his article “Slumming It: Can Slum Tourism Be Done Right?” he argues 4 criteria that can make slum tours valuable: (1) touring only small groups, (2) no photography allowed, (3) money being funneled back to the slums, (4) and respectful marketing.

The fact is that the controversy over slum tourism says more about tourism than it does about slums. Modern mass tourism is considered entertainment, and, of course, we find the thought of slums as entertainment repulsive.

Yet all travel is, to some extent, voyeuristic. Necessarily, we pry into the lives of others. Travel is intrusive and, really, there is no such thing as a no-impact traveler (save the armchair variety).

Previously on BNT, we’ve explored micro-loans as an alternative to slum tourism – though Weiner’s suggestions are also intriguing.

Can slum tourism be done right? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo: Vinzoo

What would Buddha drink? It’s a question with an easy answer, at least according to Fifth Precept of a practicing Buddhist: Do not take intoxicants.

The precept does not cast alcohol as a sin. It stems more from the problems caused by a clouded mind. (Basically, you’re more likely to do something stupid when boozed).

Recently, Ted Rose of the Shambhala Mountain Center wrote a controversial article that believes it is possible to practice “mindful drinking.”

He writes:

Here’s the basic idea: Once a meditator has developed basic Buddhist discipline (known as Hinayana training) and adopted the intention to dedicate his or her life to benefit others (the Mahayana view) the practitioner is ready to incorporate Vajrayana teachings, where the simple prohibitions outlined in the Sutras are re-evaluated.

When a meditator reaches this point, which often takes a number years in the Shambhala tradition, a dangerous substance like alcohol is viewed as a potential aide for the practitioner.

Within the context of strong discipline and clear intention, alcohol holds the possibility of no longer acting as a conventional escape, but instead being a tool for loosening the subtle clinging of ego.

I can see the value of bending the rules. The key is to also apply the other Buddhist concept of the Middle Way.

When traveling, it’s tempting to fall into a pattern of binge drinking around the city every night, then sleeping it off in the hostel bunks. But that lifestyle leads to numerous problems: loss of money, health, and messy relationships that find you with a new conquest every evening.

The flipside is to practice mindful drinking. Be aware of how the alchohol affects your body and mind.

You’ll notice when your mood has been enhanced, and when you’re on the cusp of ending up with your shirt off, doing Jagerbombs on the bar, and wondering what happened to the last four hours.

For further drinking tips, check out The Gutsy Girl’s Guide To Drinking Alone, Tripping Out on the Road, and 5 Survival Tips for How To Travel Hungover.

What do you think – is mindful drinking an oxymoron? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Bruce kicked ass. He could take on a dozen buffoons single-handedly in an alley full of wooden crates and stinking garbage. He even beat the crap out of Chuck Norris and Kareem-Abdul Jabbar. But he was more than what you see in his movies. He was an innovator and a philosopher as well.

A second take on Bruce Lee

What got me thinking about Mr. Lee again was Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story, which I watched recently for the first time since its 1993 release. I’ve changed a lot since then; his messages resonate with me now. As a kid watching Fists of Fury and Enter the Dragon, I would never have thought of the man as a deep thinker and teacher of life.

Now, at 33 and with my own life views, I can’t help but relate many of his teachings to one of my favourite activities: travel.

So I dug up a few of his choice quotes and, though he was mostly speaking specifically about his martial arts techniques, extracted some lessons that might help to make us all better travelers:

Photo by fuzheado

“The great mistake is to anticipate the outcome of the engagement; you ought not to be thinking of whether it ends in victory or defeat. Let nature take its course, and your tools will strike at the right moment.”

Expectations lead to disappointment. Maybe you had an idea — the perfect ending to an excursion — that you viewed as a victory but which didn’t pan out.

At the other extreme, maybe you were so convinced of a horrible outcome that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

What should we learn from Master Lee’s words here? Let go. Let go and let whatever happens, happen. Your “tools” — your resourcefulness and wits — will work for you in actualizing a desirable outcome.

“Do not pray for an easy life; pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.”

Substitute “trip” for “life.” It’s fruitless hoping that your travels go flawlessly. They don’t. Instead, build up the strength to deal with problems when they arise. Sometimes things get so rotten that enduring is all we can do. These events are usually character-building and make for killer stories.

“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless – like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup, you put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle, you put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot…. Be water, my friend.”

If you insist on rigid plans, they will snap and break like dry branches under your feet in the forest. Flexibility is proportional to enjoyment while traveling. Let your instincts guide you. Feel like dipping down that interesting side street? Or investigating the music and laughter coming from behind that obscure door? Go for it. Flow, my friend.

“A wise man can learn more from a foolish question than a fool can learn from a wise answer.”

So you tried something which, in hindsight, seems pretty stupid. You’re probably saying, “What was I thinking?” but you learned a valuable lesson and you learned it first-hand. Too often, we rely on guidebooks to do the thinking for us, blindly following the text without thought. Ask that “foolish question” and find the answer yourself.

“It is not a daily increase, but a daily decrease. Hack away at the inessentials.”

Photo by astique

It’s too easy to get caught up in the consumerist lifestyle. So many dazzling items out there that do all sorts of wonderful things. Hardly any of it matters, and this is no more true than when on the road. Backpackers bringing too much, and shedding the weight as they go, is a common theme.

This “hacking away at the inessentials” brings us closer to ourselves. Who am I? I’m certainly not the $250 pair of jeans that I’m wearing or the 63″ plasma screen hanging on my wall.

Embrace the Yin and Yang

So how would Bruce Lee want you to travel? I would think something like this: be at one with your environment and move in conjunction with your surroundings.

Rather than fight against negativity, become its compliment and make any situation work in your favour. Every Yin has its Yang, every black its white, and every problem its solution.

Your experiences, both positive and negative, are wrapped together tightly and comprise your journey. One just wouldn’t be the same without the other.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

For more words of movie wisdom, check out What Tyler Durden’s Philosophy Teaches Us about Travel.

Loud voices jolt me awake. It’s past midnight and I’m here in the Himalayan foothills of northern Myanmar illegally. Adrenaline pumping, I roll under the bed as shouts shake my hut’s thin bamboo walls:

“Happy Christmas! Merry Christmas! Jesus Christ is born!”

I check my clock. 12:10 am on December 1st. Here in Kachin, the Christmas season has begun.

Unlike ethnic Burmese, who form the majority in Myanmar, the six tribes collectively known as Kachins are devout Christians. Their faith has bound the Kachins together as one people and helped them endure decades of repression, suffering and loss.

For me, a nominal Christian, living among the Kachins opened my eyes to the enduring power of religious faith.

Faith In Hard Times

Hardship is a fertile ground for faith. The world’s major religions were founded by prophets who sought out suffering in their quest for God. For Christ and Buddha alike, self-denial was the key to spiritual grace.

Religion provides comfort in hard times. Faith enables the devout to connect their personal tragedies to a broader sense of shared sacrifice. Religion is a prism through which tragedy acquires meaning.

I’ve heard cynics claim that religion is the cause of suffering in the world, but it seems more accurate to say that suffering is the cause of religion.

Photo by Ryan Libre.

At daybreak, cadets at the Kachin military academy stand at attention and recite the five oaths of the Kachin Independence Army.

Twice, they honor the martyrs who gave their lives for the nation and people. When the oaths are finished, they file into the canteen and say grace, giving thanks for the morning rice.

Martyrdom is the pinnacle of grace for many believers. While the Kachin never engage in suicide attacks, their faith helped them withstand the loss of thousands of young men in battles with the Burmese military.

A Political Pastor

Late one night, I spoke with a young pastor from northern Shan state whose hometown was recently destroyed in fighting. He had traveled far to meet me and spoke with care.

“A pastor has no business in politics,” he said. “But politicians cannot speak freely in Myanmar. In my sermons I can make implications about politics. I can organize my congregation. It is very dangerous, but I feel a duty to my country.”

The Kachins celebrate Sweet December on the last night of November. Before the midnight carolers jolted me from bed, I sang Christmas songs at the Kachin Independence Organization headquarters.

The hall where we sang was decorated red and green, the colors of both Christmas and the Kachin national flag. We stood in the pews and sang the same songs over and over.

“This is good for community,” said my Kachin friend. “This brings us together.”

Photo by Ryan Libre.

When the carolers were gone, I thought about the white church on the Common in Craftsbury, Vermont. My family goes there once a year, on Christmas Eve, but it’s been five years since I was home for Christmas.

My land, my future homestead, is just a two minute walk from the white church on the Common. I had never planned to attend services.

Dignity and Hope

There’s hopelessness in Kachin, fed by grinding poverty, brutal repression, a heroin epidemic and the constant threat of war. The Kachin Church is part of the social fabric that holds the nation together, that gives the people dignity and hope.

Destinations

Community Connection to Myanmar

The Kachins don’t have much, but their faith provides an excuse to dress up, to sing, and to meet the neighbors. When suffering comes, as it inevitably will, their faith provides much more.

Growing up, most of my friends were dismissive of religion, and of Christianity in particular. It’s easy to ridicule the religious right in America, and for coddled children of the ‘80s, flooded with Christmas presents, there was never much need for faith.

In my crowd, observant Christians were Jesus Freaks, a slightly suspect minority.

I thought about the Christians I had met in Kachin, their sincerity and goodwill, and I was ashamed of my dismissive attitude. I realized that although my friends and I never needed faith growing up, we probably will someday.

Are You A Christian?

On one of my last mornings in Kachin a man asked if I was a Christian.

“My family is Christian,” I said.

“I see,” he replied.

I thought I had dodged the bullet, but then he asked again: “And you?”

I pictured the white church on the Common in Vermont and heard the choir singing at midnight on Christmas Eve, the sound of the bells in the cold December air. I pictured the gentle smiles of Kachins who had nothing but their faith in God.

I made a decision and said “Yes.”

“Yes. I am a Christian, too.”

It wasn’t an awakening. There were no angels, no organ music, no slanting shafts of light. I simply decided to accept my Christian heritage for what it is – a community that will be there, waiting for me when I go back home.

Tim’s reporting trip to Myanmar was made possible by a grant from the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting

Feature photo by Swami Stream. Photo above by Liutao.

Western travelers have a propensity to romanticize the wisdom of the East. We often seek out places like India, China, and the Middle East precisely because their wisdom is older than ours. We visit their sacred places, their shrines and monasteries and wonder at the odd curves in their architecture.

By traveling East, we paradoxically yearn to connect outwardly with the most spiritual of inner truths. Perhaps it’s precisely that paradox which makes the East so compelling for Western travelers.

There is no overarching tradition that categorizes the extent of inner travel better than Eastern philosophy. Nowhere in the West has meditation and concentration been so ancient and connected with the spiritual and profound.

It’s in this tenor that I’ve compiled a shortlist of canonical Eastern thinkers to help inspire the inner wanderlust in all of us.

Lao Tzu. Photo by beautifulcataya.

Lao Tzu

Venerable author of the Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu was an ancient Chinese philosopher and the founder of Taoism. There are few books more inspirational to take with you while traveling than the Tao Te Ching. The Chinese character for ‘Tao’ even means ‘path’, or ‘way.’

One of the more refreshing tenets of Taoism is that humans don’t hold a special status within the natural order, being only one of many manifestations of the Tao. It is thus the goal of the Taoist to find their own place in the Tao, to seek harmony with the order of things.

And isn’t that essentially the same for any displaced traveler? Finding oneself and one’s place in the grander scheme of the world, despite its multifarious unfamiliarities, is exactly what the traveler seeks, whether that journey is inward or outward.

Lao Tzu was also well known for travel metaphors. This oft-quoted gem is a personal favorite: “A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”

Prince Siddhartha Gautama.

Siddhartha Gautama

Siddhartha Gautama is the celebrated founder of Buddhism. Originally born a prince in a region of Ancient India, which we now refer to as Nepal, his early life was lived in relative luxury and obliviousness, far from the life of the great inner traveler he was to become.

As the story goes, his obliviousness was not his own doing, but rather his father’s, who wished to shelter his son from human suffering. But at the age of 29, Siddhartha defiantly left the shadow of his palace’s walls. In an event referred to as “The Great Departure,” he escaped in silence to seek the truth about life.

Thus, Siddhartha became the quintessential vagabond. Living frugally, he found wisdom while begging for alms in the streets. After eventually achieving enlightenment through solitary reflection and meditation, he traveled through India as a teacher.

At some crucial point, every traveler-at-heart makes their own great departure. We aren’t all founders of Buddhism, to be sure, but it’s that search that drives us– to see the world for what it really is, and to learn something about ourselves in the process.

Bodhidharma. Photo by Nemo’s great uncle.

Bodhidharma

Few brands of Eastern philosophy are as perplexing as Zen Buddhism, and we have Bodhidharma to thank for it. He began as a Buddhist monk in India, where it is said that he lived in a cave and meditated by staring at the cave’s wall for several decades.

Staring at walls undoubtedly inspired him to dream a lot about travel. Sure enough, he eventually left India and traveled throughout China, where he discovered that the Buddhist teachings there were filled with unjustified superstition and menial rituals. Thus, Bodhidharma developed a non-traditional path to enlightenment which was to become Zen Buddhism.

Although it is customarily very un-Zen to attempt to directly define what Zen is, I’d say that ultimately it’s about living life by the moment. It is about finding enlightenment through new perspectives, as each moment uniquely brings them, rather than relying on rules, habit or establishment as guides.

And I can’t think of better travel advice than that.

Zarathushtra. Photo by Christine K.

Zarathushtra

Zarathushtra, or Zoraster, was an ancient Iranian philosopher and poet who is credited with founding Zoroastrianism. Before Islamic conquests shook the region, Zoroastrianism was the dominant religious philosophy in ancient Iran.

It was also a key influence in the early development of Western philosophy, which goes to show that the line between the East and the West is not nearly as clear as some classifications imply.

At the heart of Zarathushtra’s philosophy is the belief that we must be open to all experiences life offers. Zoroastrians believe firmly in being an active participant in life. It’s our actions, particularly toward one another, which ultimately determine our own life’s meaning.

Travelers with a conscious respect for the cultures in which they’re traveling would do well to channel their inner Zoroastrian. That would be: to actively pursue every aspect of life, but always do it with good thoughts, good words, and good deeds.

Jiddu Krishnamurti.

Jiddu Krishnamurti

Unlike the other four Eastern philosophers mentioned above, Krishnamurti is not an ancient thinker. He was born in India in 1895 died in California in 1986. Thus, although his thought has origins in India, he has had a worldly influence.

As a young man, he was christened by those surrounding him as the next great World Teacher, and was groomed from youth to take that role. But after a process of awakening he later came to disavow this title, choosing to foster his own path.

Krishnamurti eventually traveled the world, giving lectures focused on the power of the mind in meditation. He taught that the problems of the world, such as hunger and war, are primarily a result of our thinking. If we want to enact change in the world, then he believed we must change the ways we think.

Rather than clinging to beliefs dogmatically, which isolates us from others and causes us to choose our beliefs over the well- being of others, Krishnamurti encouraged independent, positive thinking.

His philosophy is a reminder that the line between inner and outer travel is always a thin and delicate one.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

What other Eastern thinkers would you add to this list? If you haven’t already read it, Bryan’s list of Western thinkers can be found here.

Feature photo by Sean Rainer / Photo above by Computer Science Geek

Some will tell you that you can find the divine in a church, a temple, a mosque or a pagoda. That might work for you. It never has for me. Instead, I have found the divine in darkness.

Carl Jung said, “As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.”

Darkness isn’t just about switching off all the lights and disconnecting the phone.

It is about total immersion, the deep penetrating and all-embracing black stuff you only find in true isolation, when you step beyond the reassuring warmth of human civilization.

There is a long historical tradition of seeking the profound by escaping society and choosing the darkness.

There were the wilderness prophets of John the Baptist and Moses, as well as the Yogis who sought a deeper awareness of self in retreat. The Romantic poet, William Wordsworth found an overwhelming experience of being alive whilst wandering the hills and mountains.

Yet, in our congested modern world, it is increasingly difficult to find these places and harder still to find the time to absorb them. This is a universal experience, one that can be found at any time in history, on any continent, in any country.

For our generation, our isolation is found in the travel experience, one that is transitory and passing.

The Edge Of The World

I explored such a place for some months, whilst living in the New Zealand outback. The locals amusingly referred to this place as the wop-wops – a generic term for anywhere so remote, it doesn’t even warrant a name.

Jon standing before his trailer.

My home was a static caravan, on top of a hill, 12,000 long miles from home. Between me and civilization was a valley, a long and harrowing drive down a dirt track and a farm filled with demented Emus.

I wasn’t a hermit. I traveled and worked but I did spend many nights alone in this caravan, on this edge of the world.

Surrounding my home were mountain ranges and forests, birds and possums, but after a time, they too vanished under the setting sun.

This was the time that the world changed, when it disappeared, leaving nothing but mysterious sounds and the cold night, a smooth velvet darkness that enveloped me.

On one of many cold frosty nights, I shut my caravan door behind me and took a step out into the darkness. The Milky Way wrapped across the sky, the Moon was but a sliver and the sky sprinkled with stars.

I walked until all I could see was my little home, floating in the dark space, its windows awash with light. It looked like a satellite, lost and far away, suspended in the void.

I stood there awhile and tried not to let the cold get to me. I waited and then waited some more, just absorbing my surroundings, until the world wasn’t just a long way away. It was gone…

Cast Adrift

There was a jolt, like a silent earthquake that left no physical impression. There was no crack in the earth, but there had been a change nonetheless – profound and intoxicating.

I was disconnected, cast aside and lost. I felt strangely without form, small, without substance and insignificant.

My subconscious struggled desperately to find a cultural reference point to cling to. David Bowman cast adrift in the final moments of 2001: A Space Oddysey, calling out to Bowie’s Major Tom.

Trailer in the fading light.

Yet, though I was lost, a speck on a rock in the darkness, something else was there. Something intangible was filling that space and it pushed a tickle up my spine.

It didn’t speak, it didn’t have a voice and there was no kindly, bearded old man in white. What was it? Well that’s the question isn’t it? What is left, when all we have built is gone?

That’s the BIG question of life, the universe and everything, as Douglas Adams once put it.

It was the feeling of utter isolation, of removal not just from society, but from the world and then finally being removed from my own sense of self.

The Universal Connection

It might have been a horribly disturbing experience but for the equally profound sensation of being a part of everything.

Let me clarify, I felt connected to EVERYTHING – the earth, the air, the stars, all of it. Of course, it’s a paradox. How can you feel empty and yet complete? I don’t know.

This is what preacher’s talk of – this light in the darkness. Those inclined might attribute it to God, the cynic would say it was madness.

To read of this, is not to know it. Instead, I would implore my fellow travelers to go in search of the darkness yourself.

I leave the final words to a more accomplished explorer than myself, Benedict Allen:

“To me exploration isn’t about conquering natural obstacles, planting flags…it’s not about going where no one’s gone before in order to leave your mark, but about the opposite of that – about making yourself vulnerable, opening yourself up to whatever’s there and letting the place leave its mark on you.”

What do you think of finding the divine in the darkness? Share your thoughts in the comments!

It often seems the highest compliment a travel experience can get is, “ohhh, how authentic.” Authenticity is the lauded stamp supposedly verifying the traveler has really made contact with another culture.

And yet, when Kenya’s Masaai hide their microwaves to dance for tourists, and a traditional Chinese tea ceremony filled with wide-eyed Europeans is more authentic than a KFC packed to the gills with Chinese families, what, really, is authenticity?

To me, it seems the authentic is often nostalgia for a simple and idealized way of life that most travelers have never experienced, and want to believe will never change. The authentic is the fixed, the traditional, the pre-modern, and most frequently, the poor.

This illustrates the first rule of seeing other cultures as they really are, by first traveling inward.

1. Redefining Authenticity

This idea of authenticity often reinforces the same set of power relations travelers hope to undo: the control of dominant, technologically advanced, “modern” countries over more “primitive”, poor countries.

Why is it that “modern” countries are free to change, to grow wealthy, to develop, but other cultures and societies are supposed to exist in a permanent pre-modern condition, living in ignorant bliss uncontaminated by the influence of the outside world?

Are people only authentic when they’re poor? When they don´t have access to the opportunities and choices that (significantly wealthier) travelers do?

How can we think about authenticity in a way that is not synonymous with poverty and unwavering obedience to tradition?

These are questions travelers need to ask in order to work for healthy, sustainable growth in the places they visit, and to escape this dichotomy of authentic, static, noble poverty vs. inauthentic wealth, growth, and change.

2. Challenging Personal Assumptions

Blonde poverty / Photo carf

“They may be poor, but they´re happy!” I cringe every time I hear this refrain.

I remember meeting an American professor in a Oaxacan café and telling him about the intense poverty in the Sierra Norte, where my husband is from. My husband’s brother had gone to the U.S at age seventeen and lived in a cave, working to support his parents and five brothers and sisters.

My husband’s parents both worked full time to pull in an income that could send only one child (my husband) to college. I said, “There are no opportunities in the Sierra”, and the professor replied, “Yes, but they are content, and opportunities is an American concept.”

An outrageous assumption: they don´t really want opportunities, they live in graceful, natural, harmonious poverty. We may enjoy the opportunity to travel across Mexico, but they are happier eating tortillas and living in tin roof houses.

Such a nice, heartwarming thought coming from someone who has never faced poverty.

One of the hardest things as a traveler is to accept that the way you want to see a culture may be very different from the way local people see (and want to see) it.

Inner travel should be the effort to move beyond assumptions, to free oneself of easy explanations and answers that come from what one would like to believe, and not what is.

3. Across the class spectrum

Chinese are loving it / Photo mcchronicles

I admit, I think the best places to eat are always the dumpling restaurants with two linoleum tables, a couple of stools, and a crate of beer in the corner.

I love morning taco stands, markets, and tiny restaurants packed elbow to elbow where one can eat for a buck and toast the guy at the next table.

But, sometimes, it’s worth it to pop into a McDo or the latest upscale fusion restaurant downtown: who’s there? What are they doing?

I went to McDo in Beijing for the first time at 3 a.m, just after a rock concert, to find it packed full of college students, asleep atop stacks of textbooks, with trays of tea and fries scattered around them.

It was a surprise peek at middle class Chinese culture; the up-and-coming cadres, doctors, and teachers snoozing under the golden arches.

Similarly, at an upscale Chinese restaurant (where I’d never have gone if the university where I taught hadn’t thrown a banquet) I saw Chinese who twenty years ago were in the full throes of the Cultural Revolution now eating Peking Duck and watching Imperial acrobatics, waited on by dainty young girls in red qipiaos.

This was an insight into modern China possible made possible by escaping the local dumpling joint. It is worth it to experience (if one’s budget affords) the whole class spectrum, to help jolt oneself awake to the past and future of a place, and to the complicated layers that compose it.

4. Witnessing Connections

Chinese worker / Photo jijis

“Made in China” takes on a whole new significance pulling into a Chinese factory town, with air so dense your eyes burn and a persistent cough claws at your throat.

Seeing people riding bikes under the gray haze of factory chemicals, seeing the grimness of life without sky or air, changes the way one thinks about all those familiar “Made in China” labels.

Similarly, knowing how much the average coffee farmer makes in Mexico or Colombia changes the way one thinks about the prices of an average pound of Mexican or Colombian coffee at home.

It is so easy to miss these connections; corporations and the media conspire to obscure them.

But travelers have the chance to connect their lives with the lives of people in the places they visit, to expose the injustice of these connections between rich and poor, developed and developing, and to potentially create sustainable, just connections in replace of exploitative ones.

5. Ways of Seeing

Coffee is not just coffee when it is a glass mug of Malay espresso and sweetened condensed milk, served on a sticky 85 degree day in a Kedai Kopi in Kota Kinabalu, Borneo, with a steaming bowl of lahksa.

It is a full-on sensory experience that yanks all those dormant parts of oneself, the parts that go plodding through the day to day in familiar places without really seeing, to life.

The best way to experience “inner travel,” the process of moving oneself out of a familiar mental space, is to take no detail for granted.

Every place, even Columbus, Ohio (which, having grown up there, I had always assumed was the most boring place on Earth) is full of quirks and smells and sights and sounds and local particularities.

It can all be travel, even the same day-to-day bus ride to work, even the park where you walk the dog every evening, even the landscapes that are so familiar you barely see them, if you peer through the eyes of a traveler.

How has inner travel helped you experience other cultures? Share your thoughts in the comments!

“Do you have any white clothes?” asked a voice, rudely awakening me from a few hours of disturbed and uncomfortable sleep. “Come on, hurry up, we need to buy fruit and flowers before we meet the guru.”

I was in Michoacan, Mexico, staying with a few local friends we had met on our travels. Friends who, it became apparent, were masters of non-information.

For the past couple of days we had been living in a small cloud of confusion, and it intensified as clothes were selected for us from a large stack of brilliant white garments.

“Why do we have to wear white?” I asked. “It’s so all our energy vibrations are in harmony,” I was informed. “If you wear colors you will create a force that is stronger than everyone else.”

Bleary eyed in the early morning light we piled into the car. The two guys ran to buy various meditative objects, while the women huddled inside and grumbled at one another.

“I want a cigarette” said the chainsmoker (me). “This is all very well and good” snapped my disgruntled friend, “this quest for spiritual enlightenment, but I know what I’d prefer right now. A big plate of huevos a la Mexicana and a strong coffee.”

It soon became apparent that our requests had been denied, as the guys informed us we were not allowed to eat or drink anything (apart from water) until we had finished the meditation session.

Meeting The Guru

The author with the guru behind / Photo Suzanne Shanklin

Like little white sheep we were driven to a small altar and terrace by the side of a busy road. As we waited the other white clad spiritualists arrived, most of them hungover from the night before.

Soon we were a very noticeable circle of twenty five spiritual seekers holding hands, under the gaze of our guru. He was a man with long, grizzled grey hair, dressed in flowing white robes and wielding a staff.

He beamed at us with an expression of serenity.

Our first task: we were all made to discuss the properties of the staff. Our guru attributed our different answers to the fact that we are all individual, and all needed different meditations, (though my nicotine deprived brain neglected to point out we were all dressed like clones).

We proceeded to shout and chant various mantras from around the world, whilst the palms of our hands grew sweaty and our stomachs growled.

An Upward Struggle

After a while, the guru broke from the group and stood in front of each of us in turn, chanting “moonie moonie, joomie joomie” and waving his hands in circles like a tranquilized trance raver. We were meant to copy him.

By the time the guru stood before me I was reveling in the absurdity of the situation. I believe he mistook my repressed laughter for a bubbling over of youthful spirituality.

My friend refused to copy the guru’s actions. He tried multiple times: “Moonie moonie? Joomy joomy?” Her face blazed thunder- a moment that captured perfectly the clash between new-age spirituality and rationality.

The meditation finished. “Now” said the guru, “you are going to climb the mountain,” as he indicated one of the summits that encircled us. “But first, I will give you all your own individual mantras, ones that suit you perfectly. You must repeat them inside your minds as you climb the mountain.”

Due to my inability to pronounce the Spanish ‘doble-ere‘ sound (roll my rrrrr’s), I wasn’t able to accurately mouth my mantra ‘Om-Rrrim’, but my choking sound seemed to suffice.

“Leave behind food and water” the guru said. “Take only your sheets, and women, take the things you need for your children.” (I forgot mention, we’d all bought bed-sheets with us at the guru’s request. White, of course).

Dancing Butterflies

View to the top / Photo Suzanne Shanklin

The climb began, everyone helping one another and tripping over their sheets. It was rather beautiful, I imagine somewhat akin to the biblical exodus to The Promised Land.

For a moment, I savoured the silence of the view and the feeling of the fresh, nicotine-free air. I enjoyed the feeling of finally reaching the top of the mountain, that sense of accomplishment, and the vista at the top.

We were Northern Mexico, during the season when the monarch butterflies migrate south for winter, and they spiraled round us in meandering flights of fluttering wings.

I looked at the sides of the mountain, spotted with graffiti rocks and pink wild-flowers, the city of Aguascalientes laid out before us like a circuit board. I settled on a rock next to my friend and attempted sleep, with the sun burning red lines into my face.

After a while, the seekers shuffled awkwardly, then, finally, someone asked “Where is the guru?”

It was relayed to us that the guru had, for some reason (a confusion exaggerated by my shaky grasp of Spanish), gone to a city over an hours drive away, and we had to descend the mountain and wait for him in someone’s house for the meditation classes.

No food, of course, which my friend and I grumbled about on our descent. “We need something” we pleaded to our friend Carlos, “even some juice”.

“It’s better if you don’t” he replied. “You don’t need food. It isn’t good to meditate when you are full.”

Caught In The Act

When we arrived at the house, I spied a plume of smoke- the woman of the house, standing on her terrace, gazing quizzically at the white reclining figures on the lawn.

Finding food. / Photo Suzanne Shanklin

I went to ask her for a cigarette, and joined some of the others who were hiding inside like naughty schoolchildren. We all breathed a sigh of relief, and I confided to one of Carlos’s friends that they wouldn’t let us eat.

“Do you want some food?” he asked. “We have some bananas in the car,” I sighed sadly. “No, real food. GORDITAS. Our treat.”

The guru returned at a rather unfortunate moment. We were sitting on the grass stuffing our faces with dripping tortillas, the oil running down our chins and staining our clothes.

He stood above us, casting a benevolent shadow over our display of greed. “When you eat, eat only to sustain yourself. Eat slowly, calmly, and with every mouthful, thank the Gods. You have five minutes to begin, then we will start the meditations.”

We rammed the remaining food down our throats, and clumsily formed a circle, ready to begin.

Falling In Love

The first meditation, a singing meditation. We wrapped ourselves in our sheets, leaving only our heads poking out (rather like E.T. riding the flying bicycle), and began to sing along with the tape, singing and waving our hands.

“Sal y salsa, sal y salsa, sal y sal-sal-sa-al” we sang, over and over again. Despite my very English, very close minded notion of not wanting to look ridiculous, spiritually speaking it warmed us up. Ready for more classes, more breathing exercises.

One of these was two form two circles, one of men, one of women, and, moving in different directions, stare each other in the eyes and hold the gaze. When you fall in love with someone, you gaze into their eyes in a way you would never do with a stranger.

I fell in love with several people.

People have beautiful eyes. They are the window to the soul, after all, and there was no blankness or rejection, only the occasional shyness and insecurity, brief glimpses of a bright iris through lowered lashes.

Gifting The Flowers

The beauty of flowers / Photo Suzanne Shanklin

Another meditation involved lying on the grass, face-down, eyes closed, with the guru moving with roaming fingers, tickling us until we screamed and writhed like little white grubs.

Then he placed his hands firmly on each person’s back and pressed down with a force that elicited manifold cracking sounds, and afterwards, a sigh of relief.

Not many massages can compare with that sudden release of tension, which undoubtedly prepared us for the rest of the meditations.

After climbing a mountain and gazing at each other like lovers, the group felt very close. My friends and I agreed to meditate more, without the clothes, sheets and hunger. To my surprise, even my most cynical friend hugged the guru goodbye.

He thanked us, holding out a plastic cup to collect our money, if we wanted.

He instructed us to give our flowers to the lady of the house, and she looked on as twenty five large bouquets were laid on her lawn, undoubtedly wondering where, exactly she was going to find twenty five vases.

We said our goodbyes and left, driving off in a cloud of red dust, already dreaming of our next episode of unorthodox behavior.

Have you tried a similar group meditation experience? Share your stories in the comments!

Homer

Within its cryptic mysteries and abstruse ponderings lies that same rapacious spirit for travel as exists in any seasoned explorer.

Whether you’re looking inward or hiking outward, the goal is always psychological: to open your mind and to challenge old ways of thinking.

What follows is a list of 5 great thinkers who have fostered in me a ferocious curiosity about the world, an exhilaration for new experiences and the wherewithal to continually stretch personal boundaries; the traveler’s spirit!

1. Homer

Any list such as this needs to begin with Homer’s The Odyssey (as does any study of Western philosophy).

No literary work embodies better how an epic voyage can be a powerful metaphor for inner travel. If its eloquent verses don’t inspire the wanderlust in you, nothing will.

Every time I’ve read The Odyssey, I’ve been overcome with the desire for all of my travels to be epic and life-altering. If you bring it along and read it often, its positive influence may also leave your own travel journal mysteriously written in dactylic hexameter.

Michel de Montaigne

2. Michel de Montaigne

Montaigne has occasionally been hailed as “the first tourist”. Of course, his Travel Journal is a shining example as to why he’s famous for popularizing the essay as a literary genre.

Thus, Montaigne is more than just a great thinker who understood inner travel; he’s a thinker who inspired inner travel writing, too.

If you’re railing around Europe you might be interested in his various musings about regional differences throughout the continent.

David Hume

3. David Hume

David Hume was a Scottish philosopher who had a large influence on me as a young man. He was an empiricist, which means he believed that if knowledge is going to come from anywhere, it has to come from what your senses tell you about the world.

But what made Hume unique among the empiricists of his time was his skepticism. He argued that our understanding of the world is not generated through reasoning, but instead by a certain habit of mind, or more by the practicality of a situation.

Basically, this made Hume an anti-dogmatist, and he taught that we must constantly challenge our own assumptions.

His advice to the traveler would have been to always be open to new experiences, and to not get too comfortable within a limited perspective.

Edmund Husserl

4. Edmund Husserl

Known as the father of phenomenology, nobody exemplifies the notion that experience is the source of all knowledge better than Husserl.

Thus, for Husserl, understanding inner travel would have been more than important, but fundamental.

Phenomenology is all about identifying how the features of objects are perceived, which as anyone who has experienced culture shock might tell you: it’s a life-shaking and profound process.

Husserl’s writing may seem like heavy reading on the road, but if you can parse it, there are few worldviews which declare more vividly that all of our outer journeys begin and end from within.

Jean-Paul Sartre

5. Jean-Paul Sartre

When many people think of existentialism, they imagine black-clothed Parisians sipping coffee and puffing on cigarettes, questioning whether their lives have any meaning.

But reading Sartre will quickly cure you of that misconception.

Rather, the tenets of Sartre’s thought empower the individual to forge in the smithy of their soul their own life’s meaning. The existentialist, like the traveler, is fundamentally obsessed with living an authentic life. And that means constantly challenging yourself to do things differently.

For Sartre, the individual is fundamentally, metaphysically open to new experiences.

For me, nothing extols and empowers the traveler’s attitude better than the existential attitude.

What other Western thinkers embody inner travel? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo James Thew

Travel is first and foremost a journey of the spirit.

At our core we are travelers; we travel through time from moment to the next. We travel through our emotions from bliss to despair. Our very nature is ever “departing and arriving” simultaneously.

With these truths in mind we need to understand that the physical act of donning a backpack and tramping around the globe is a call that has moved mankind since times unremembered.

We need to strike out, perhaps down an unfamiliar path, perhaps across merciless and unknown lands and seas. This is all the more difficult when we have trouble conquering our own inner landscape.

Here are 5 techniques for improving inner travel.

1. Cultivate Awareness

The earthly wonders of traveling can be greatly enhanced by practicing awareness of our inner journey. By awareness I mean feelings of calm, attentiveness, curiosity and peace.

Travel naturally encourages awareness. Thrust into astounding and unfamiliar circumstances the traveler takes it in with wide eyes and an open mind.

A good way to maintain awareness is to meditate: calming your mind or quietly concentrating on something beautiful. Whatever can bring you into the present moment, eyes shut or open, on a bus, or the beach.

Meditation allows room for your mind to rest and reflect on all that your travels have brought you so far.

2. Travel without expectations.

Simply put, let the place be what it is. We all are guilty of casting predictions and building places up in our mind.

Photo FriskoDude

“This will blow me away, I have heard so much about that…” brochures, pictures and fellow travelers accounts can not go far in predicting what your experience with a place or people will be.

When I have fretted for my safety, it was unneeded. When I lifted a place up in my mind, I was disappointed.

I can be certain no traveler will experience a cathedral or village exactly the same as me, so precedent is nothing. Abolish expectations and you leave room for the beautiful flux of reality and the truly unique experience that awaits.

3. Say Yes!

The most important word in a travelers vocabulary is YES. Yes opens doors and sets an extra place for dinner. Yes makes you friends, finds you rides, saves your neck and gives you something to write home about.

True, there are times for no, and you will know when these are…but to let go and relinquish the journey is to embrace yes.

Why would you want to let go? Because you are not in control anyway. Yes means forgetting everything you have learned about rides with strangely aromatic men and taking candy from strangers. Yes finds you a hotel, checks you in and pays your first night until you can get money wired to you.

Pop your personal bubble, and say yes to the journey!

4. Express yourself.

Photo Yelnoc

Creatively express yourself while traveling. This is something you will appreciate like aged wine long after you have returned to your flat and your cat.

Journal about your day or write letters home, it doesn’t have to be much, just relate what you are experiencing and perhaps recount seem nugget of truth you have discovered.

Sit in a crowd and sketch faces or architecture. Take photos and share them with friends and love ones online. Perhaps one of the most rewarding ways to express yourself and connect with your journey more deeply is to start a blog you update frequently.

This gives everyone a window into what is no doubt an incredible journey and allows you room to process the triumphs and tragedies that are sure to befall.

Photos, poetry, or painting, blogging, songwriting… just give your adventures a voice that will immortalize the journey forever.

5. Get out there and smile

You are in some town or village; no doubt there are other travelers milling about.

Remember, while these folks speak your language and are certainly fun to hang out with, you didn’t fly halfway around the world to drink beers with some guy named Chet from L.A.

Wander a ways off the well beaten tourist track. Once you notice the faces of your kith and kin diminish and locals are the rule, remember this simple instruction; smile.

If you’re like me you probably can’t help it anyway, but I know sometimes it is easy to feel distant and shy in new cultures. Let your smile be the key that unlocks doors to cultural exchange and genuine human experience.

It is the one language we all share that needs no translation.

Remember, we never stop traveling. The more you can be aware of life’s overall journey the deeper you will experience the individual moments.

What techniques do you use for improving your inner travel? Share in the comments!

Feature photo by Tierecke. Photo by Harsh1.0.

I’m on a bus in Israel leaving the airport. It’s very early in the morning. The day is already so hot you can see waves of heat shimmering off the highway.

I feel like I always do at the start of a great adventure: jet lagged, thirsty, excited. The buildings of Tel Aviv are getting smaller the further we drive. Our tour guide, his name is Eitan, is talking into a microphone.

“As we head out of the city you’ll see a lot of countryside,” he says, his blue eyes gazing fondly out the window at his adopted homeland (Eitan is American, you see, and he has “made aliyah,” or taken Israel as his homeland and chosen a Hebrew name).

“Israel is not all desert like you might have thought.” I pay attention now, because this is what I did in fact think. “Look at that field of sunflowers, for example.”

I look out the window to my left and see the tall yellow flowers. I’m thinking they are pretty and picturesque, then Eitan says, “Don’t they look like proud soldiers lined up ready for battle?”

It won’t occur to me until much later, when my ten-day tour around Israel is finished and I’m back in the safety of my predictable, air-conditioned American life, that this comment represents two things I’ve come to understand about Israel and its people.

• One: Israelis are determined to show the world their country is beautiful, not just bombs and problems.
• Two: They have an unwavering belief in their right to belong as a nation and their right to defend it.

Conclusion: Where Americans see sunflowers, Israelis see soldiers.

A Clean Slate

I’m on this whirlwind tour of the Holy Land courtesy of Birthright, a foundation that offers every American with Jewish heritage a free trip to Israel.

The only requirements are that you’re between the ages of 18 and 26 and you have at least one Jewish parent. That’s it.

Birthright gives you an all-expenses paid tour (I’m talking airfare, food, accommodation, everything) around Israel to learn about the country and its complicated past and precarious future.

Although my father is Jewish and I grew up going to Passover at my grandmother’s house, I consider myself more “Jew-ish” than Jewish (as one girl on my trip put it during one of many group conversations on Jewish identity).

At this point in my life I don’t follow Judaism or any religion for that matter. Culturally, I’m kinda whatever, celebrating Christmas and Groundhog Day and any other holiday that seems like fun.

I went into my trip to Israel a veritable clean slate, a sheltered girl from small-town Nevada with no strong political convictions. An agnostic in faith and in life. I didn’t know much about Israelis as a people, and knew hardly anything about the politics of the region.

I came out of my trip with dates and history and passionate speeches rattling around in my head, less sure than ever who should have rightful “ownership” of the land.

Photo by Man United.

The Jewish Experience

On day one we arrived in the Galilee, the northernmost region of Israel. As we drive past the rugged hills and occasional olive tree, Eitan mentions, “Someone famous performed most of his miracles here.”

You might have heard of that someone. His name is Jesus Christ.

The Son of God would be mentioned occasionally throughout the trip as a sort of background player. Like the keyboardist in a band. This surprises me, which makes me realize I’m more culturally Christian than I thought.

We drop off our luggage at the first of several hostels and head directly to hike Mt. Arbel. That night we watched the moon rise over the Sea of Galilee, drank cold Israeli beer, and talked about our backgrounds and what we hoped to learn on the trip.

Most days would be like that first one. Up at dawn for the first hike of the day, museums and synagogues, lectures by intense Zionists and Holocaust survivors, complex conversations in the evenings about the future of Israel.

We float down the Jordan River and hike up steep canyons. We go to a kibbutz in the Golan Heights called Misgav Am, where we have a regional view of Lebanon, Syria, and Hezbollah headquarters, as well as a passionate discourse on Israel’s right to fight by an expatriate American who has fought in four of Israel’s wars.

I especially enjoy the day we spend navigating the steep streets of Tzfat, built into a mountain and known for its artist colonies and as the birthplace of Kabballah.

Photo by E|NoStress|

Everyday Is Like 9/11

There is the salty air in the haunting ocean caves of Rosh Hanikra. There are the tears in the hallways of Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum.

We navigate the crowded stalls of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv’s markets, squeezing peaches and bargaining with our best version of todah, Hebrew for “thank you.”

We wake up at 3am to climb Masada and are rewarded with breathtaking views of the Dead Sea at sunrise. We then swim in the Dead Sea, and are rewarded with stinging eyes and mud splattered bathing suits.

We see Jaffa at sunset (where the human race has had a city since the beginning of time). We pretend to be comfortable sleeping in a Bedouin tent and rise at dawn for a camel ride.

I pick up white chalky stones in the riverbed where David fought Goliath (I later put them on my desk at home to remind me I can overcome any obstacle).

I touch the smooth pillars in a small, non-descript chapel in Jerusalem where the Last Supper took place. I peer down into a deep, dark canyon where babies were sacrificed in ancient times-the canyon that inspired the concept of Hell.

Most significantly: we travel with eight Israeli soldiers who are impossibly exotic in our eyes, though they look just like the Americans we grew up with.

They have the same discussions on dating and pop culture as we do, yet their lives have been punctuated by periods in which “every day is like 9/11.”

Devotional Envy

Like most tourists, we visited the Western Wall during our tour of the old city. But on our trip, we went twice. Once in the day and once at night.

During the night visit, I stood with my forehead touching The Wall, the ground beneath me finally cool after a day of scorching heat. The air around me was filled with the hushed chatter of a thousand worshipers.

I know I’m supposed to be praying or asking forgiveness or in the very least thinking profound thoughts, but instead I’m mesmerized by the women around me, young and old, their hands pressed together, some bobbing rhythmically to the verses in their heads.

Watching them, I feel both disturbed by and strangely envious of their devotion.

For the first time in my life, I felt seduced by the idea of belonging to a religion.

Of belonging to a nation where fighting for its defense is the rule rather than the exception. So many of us Americans create our own problems. Depression. Anxiety.

Maybe having a common enemy, a constant threat to safety, is the ironical path to happiness.

The Value Of Identity

Perhaps creature comforts and national security aren’t actually the ingredients of contentment.

Have we forgotten that humans like to be challenged, have something to fight for, to believe in? We thrive on these feelings because they give us an identity.

I reached out and touched The Wall. I slipped my folded note into the ancient crevices, and I pressed my palm flat against the stone.

In that moment I felt a rush, of hope, of sorrow, of belonging.

And then, all at the same time, I became aware of a Jewish woman to my left reciting verses in Hebrew, and the tall minaret by the Dome of the Rock singing the Muslim call to prayer.

And quite softly but distinct still, church bells ringing somewhere nearby.

My own spiritual journey began when I picked up a copy of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. It wasn’t the first “New Age” book I had read, but for the first time, I felt open to receiving the guidance within those pages.

I don’t know whether I was just in the right frame of mind when I came across this book or whether it was Coelho’s parable about life that spoke to me, but from then on, I felt compelled to take Coelho’s words to heart, and look inside myself.

Similarly, the following ten books have been largely influential for spiritual seekers all over the world.

While some are more timeless than others, each will likely inspire to further your own spiritual journey.

1. The Secret

Written by Melbourne television producer Rhonda Byrne, and based on a film she created in 2004 of the same title, The Secret tells of the laws of attraction: Asking for what you want, believing in what you want, and being open to receiving it.

With a historical basis in the 19th century New Thought movement; Byrne’s book has proven to be a cultural phenomenon, making the number one spot on the New York Times bestseller list.

While some consider the book little more than slick marketing and the re-packaging of many other spiritual beliefs, the book’s cultural significance cannot be denied. It remains to be seen whether Byrne’s The Secret will stand the test of time.

Photo by Rick McCharles

2. The Celestine Prophecy

In 1992, author James Redfield wrote and self-published his first book, The Celestine Prophecy. Since its initial publishing, it has gone on to become the most successful self-published novel ever.

The book is part adventure story (think The Da Vinci Code) and New Age spiritual novel. The book details one man’s journey through Peru as he uncovers nine spiritual insights.

While many have found the plot corny, the insights within captivate the reader into shifting their perspective.

3. The Alchemist

Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist tells the simple tale of a shepherd who journeys to the pyramids of Egypt to find his treasure is truly timeless. The lessons told of the discovery of your personal legend, being your one true purpose, and of understanding omens, are ones that speak to all people regardless of religion.

Photo by Light and Life -Murali

4. The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living

Inspired by the Dalai Lama’s joyful nature despite the political situation in Tibet, author Howard Cutler wanted to write a spiritual book focused towards a Western audience.

The Art of Happiness talks about the importance and attainability of happiness in everyday living. The purpose of life is to find happiness, which is determined by one’s mental state, despite outside circumstances.

This is a book likely to stand the test of time because it speaks to people without the use of spiritual rules or religious guidelines.

5. A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose

In spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle’s book, A New Earth, the author talks about reducing the ego as a means to feeling the abundance of life, because the ego is the source of all inner and outer conflict.

Tolle’s New Earth gained in popularity after Oprah selected it for her book club. Since then, Tolle’s book about the awakened consciousness has influenced millions.

6. The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

In his classic book, Seven Spiritual Laws of Success, Chopra discusses the importance of success in life. For Chopra, success is defined as happiness and the realization of goals, although success is not limited to wealth.

Chopra lays down 7 laws found in nature used to create spiritual success. These laws include karma (cause and effect) and dharma (purpose in life). Chopra’s popularity lies in the way he is able to take ancient Vedic teachings and present them to a Western audience.

7. The Road Less Traveled

Psychiatrist M. Scott Peck’s 1978 The Road Less Traveled book takes his ideas from his background both as a psychiatrist and as a born-again Christian.

His book details the attributes that Peck feels make a fulfilled human being. Split into three sections, his book talks about discipline (as a means for spiritual evolution), love (as a force for spiritual growth) and grace.

Though this book remains popular, some may find the psychological ideas of the book to be somewhat dated.

Photo by Rick McCharles

8. Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The tale has captured readers’ imaginations for nearly 40 years. Richard Bach’s novella reveals the story of Jonathan, a seagull whose passion for flying makes him different from other gulls.

Jonathan’s wish to perfect his flying results in being outcast from his group. At first devastating, the experience culminates in him moving to a “higher plane” where he meets other gulls like him, and his subsequent return to his flock.

Jonathan is a symbol to all those who refuse to conform for the sake of conforming, instead teaching love, forgiveness, and how to reach your true potential.

9. Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia

After a bitter divorce, author Elizabeth Gilbert took a year off to travel. She visited Italy, where she ate copious amounts of good food. She went to India to learn about spirituality. And finally, ended her journey in Bali, where she was able to discover a balance between the two: love.

Gilbert’s book Eat, Pray Love details the spiritual journey of someone in a tremendous amount of pain, to a balanced, loving human. Her story has resonated with readers everywhere, landing on the New York Times bestseller list, with plans to be made into a movie.

10. Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life’s Greatest Lesson

Mitch Albom’s book, based on a series of interviews with Morrie Schwartz, his former professor who was dying of Lou Gehrig’s disease, has sold countless copies and inspired a TV movie starring Hank Azaria and Jack Lemmon.

Photo Anna Brones

It happens surprisingly often that, when we are traveling and are confronted by paradisaical locations and amazing people, we are unable to enjoy ourselves entirely.

Despite our surroundings, there is a certain niggling feeling: the idea that something just isn’t quite right about the situation.

If our immediate physical environment is perfect, then we have to examine our inner emotional landscape to discover what these irritating stumbling blocks are. What inner journeys are we having that are preventing us from really enjoying the moment?

This is a short list of five of the most common barriers to inner travel.

1. The absent ‘other half’

Photo Ross Borden

How often is it, when confronted with a picture postcard view and lots of people busy making friends and enjoying themselves, you have distanced yourself and thought “I wish X was here to share this with me”?

We are all guilty of pining over absent partners, of running up ridiculously high mobile phone bills as we chatter incessantly to them.

In turn, of course, we have been annoyed by friends visibly pining for their partner, whilst they should be enjoying a long deserved break with us. Not fun.

Solution:

When traveling without a partner, pre-arrange how often you are going to be in contact. That way, you won’t obsess about missing calls from them, or have to worry about contacting them unnecessarily.

For motivation, recall how irritating your friends are when they are in this situation- you don’t want to end the holiday on bad terms with any of your traveling partners!

2. The ‘Jaded Long-term Traveler’ Attitude

We all know the types. They’ve wrestled sharks in the Caribbean, lived in the wilderness, and slept in more quirky cabanas than exist in all of Southeast Asia.

As a result, nothing fazes them- every waterfall you see, they’ve seen one twice as big. Every crazy character you meet, they’ve met someone twice as crazy.

It is very easy to adopt this attitude after traveling for a while. Impressed by nothing, the excitement of traveling merely becomes everyday.

Solution:

This can be difficult to shake off- especially as the ‘seen it all’ attitude can earn you awe from other travelers.

But try thinking about the company you keep; rather than gravitating towards other seasoned travel-heads, it can be really refreshing hanging out with people on their first trip abroad.

Their sense of open-eyed amazement can be very infectious. And of course, every now and then will come the moment that suddenly shakes this attitude from you.

One of mine was when I saw my first firefly in Mexico (living in England, they are little more than exotic myths). Glowing green insects like flying led lights- what can beat that!?

3. The Urge to Document

Photo Hawaiibren

All your friends are participating in the indigenous ritual that they will only get to attend once or twice in their lifetimes. And what are you doing?

You’re standing behind the ring of people, nose glued to the camera as you fiddle with the settings to correctly expose the photo. Or you’re scribbling frantically in your notebook, composing beautifully descriptive phrases.

You are so concerned with depicting the moment perfectly that you fail to enjoy it.

Solution:

I’m notoriously bad at this- occasionally I have to rely on good friends to tell me to put my notebook away and look at what is going on! Save writing for those long boring pauses in traveling; those all day bus journeys, for example.

Photographing is a little more difficult to avoid, but I think it is wise to forsake the complicated SLR for a small compact camera, set on automatic mode, which eliminates the pauses for fiddling.

4. Failure to Stay in the Present

You’re not enjoying yourself because you are worrying about the flight you have to catch tomorrow, or the hostel you’ll need to find when you arrive at 2am.

Or else, you’re busy regaling people with anecdotes from past travels, or preoccupied with repeating a past traveling mistake. Either way, your thoughts are not located in the present. But what about ‘now’?

Solution:

Remember this: the best traveling experiences are the ones you can’t anticipate. There is no point in hoping for something in the future, because reality is often better. If you are worrying, close your eyes, take a deep breath and try and let past and future worries dissolve.

When this happens to me, I always take a few minutes to myself to be alone and calm myself down, so I can authentically appreciate what is going on around me.

5. Desire for a ‘genuine’ experience

Photo Anna Brones

This is very common in long-term travelers. As a result, you become surprisingly snobbish about certain towns that are featured in the guide-books, failing to appreciate them because they don’t reflect the desired “look” of the country you’re in.

The company of other ‘tourists’, however like-minded they are, is often disparaged.

Solution:

Traveling doesn’t follow a particular path- sometimes you’ll spend weeks just talking to locals, other times, you’ll only meet tourists.

Often the best travel experiences aren’t remotely related to the culture you’re attempting to immerse yourself in – they may occur through a variety of unpredictable encounters with locals and tourist alike.

When I felt like too much of a tourist, I threw out my guidebook, and now, I rely on talking to people for information about transport and good places to go.

These are 5 of the most common inner obstacles we encounter whilst traveling. I have used my own personal experiences to help me compile this list.

What are your own barriers to inner travel? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Lighting the darkness / Photo Lecercle

Australia, like most developed western countries, has had the world arrive at its doorstep.

Even in small country towns, you can’t walk down the street without a spattering of Mandarin spilling out to the sidewalk from the local Chinese take-away; Con the fruiter hawking his produce; passing worshipers on their way to a mosque, temple or synagogue.

Although we are living side by side, passing each other on a daily basis, how well do we really know our neighbors?

For instance, do we know we have given a great insult by not removing our shoes at the front door of our Japanese neighbor’s home; offended our Filipino host by zealously commenting on how wonderful the food was and shown our ignorance by calling our Mexican friend ‘amigo’ instead of by his name?

More importantly, do we care?

In the legal system, ignorance is not a valid defense – neither should it be in life, in this day and age of access to information, travel and freedom.

The Right To Understand

This is MY country, some say. They are foreigners, and they should assimilate to our way of life.

Well, if you had been forced to leave your homeland, your friends, your family, the only way of life you have ever known, wouldn’t YOU want to keep a little bit of your culture alive in a strange and frightening land?

Can we learn cultural awareness without leaving the comfort of our armchair? To an extent…perhaps. We can learn history and facts that we are able to rattle off when requested.

But is not until we travel – until we open ourselves up to that same level of vulnerability, relying on the most basic elements of communication and human nature, that we are able to look through their eyes.

When you open yourself to the world through engaged travel, you can better empathize with the immigrants for whom your native country is a foreign land.

Says Marcel Proust, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

Awareness

Painting everything blue / Photo Lecercle

To travel under this banner of seeking greater understanding and empathy of the people who live in this world requires a lot of sincere effort.

First of all, you must start with a least a basic understanding of yourself and humanity. To be aware of the fact that everyone and everything is connected in this world, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

“I’m not above anybody. I’m, I’m not better than anybody. I am made of the same material that everybody else is and if somebody can be a saint, so can I and if somebody can be a torturer, so can I. So it’s really important to, for me, to be aware of that so that I can act against it.”

- Isabel Allendel , Enough Rope 2008

It is necessary to dismantle the idea that “real” travel must be dirty, dangerous, off the beaten track and done on a shoe-string budget. Of course, this can be part of the authentic experience of travel – but it is still only part of the whole.

If we maintain the ideal of “real” travel, we will be excluding a whole section of the community from our experiences.

It is foolish to believe that because someone is not living in “authentic” poverty they do not have an understanding of their country and their culture – that they have somehow become Westernized and corrupt and couldn’t possibly have anything of real value to share with you.

“I offer you peace. I offer you love. I offer you friendship. I see your beauty. I hear your need. I feel your feelings. My wisdom flows from the Highest Source. I salute that Source in you. Let us work together for unity and love.”

- Mahatma Gandhi, Prayer for Peace

Sense Of Adventure

Silence on the beach / Photo Lecercle

Have a sense of adventure. This could involve trekking through the Amazon until you stumble upon an indigenous tribe, or simply accepting invitations to uncertain outcomes. Some simple tips to increase your spirit of adventure:

• Don’t be tied to your itinerary
• Accept random and unexpected invitations
• Smile; you’ll be amazed at what happens
• Try using only the local language for a day
• Believe in the innate goodness of people
• Leave your voice of reason at home

Believe In Yourself

Have an unwavering belief in yourself. Do not be deterred, by your friends, your family, or some guy who has just conned you out of your last $20.

Remember, you have not embarked on this journey to better your own life, or to regale your friends with outrageous stories over dinner parties, and you are not trying to save the world.

You are simply an individual, traveling the world in the hope of understanding your neighbors, friends, colleagues and even your enemies a little better and in turn, hopefully inspiring others to do the same.

“For my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways,
And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low;
I’m at home and at ease on a track that I know not,
And restless and lost on a road that I know.”

– Henry Lawson, The Wander-Light

Photo Premasagar

Everyone knows what travel is. There’s not a lot to explain: you buy a ticket, go somewhere, have fun. End of story.

In fact, most things can be explained in this straightforward manner. For instance, everyone knows how cars work: you put gas in, drive around, have fun.

Every year, millions of people go abroad in search of adventure.

Some have such a miserable time they’ll never travel again, yet others claim travel is their favorite pastime. Some say they’ve had so fantastic an experience, it’s changed their lives – even after losing half their luggage and surviving an illness unknown to Western medicine.

What went right? Clearly, travel really isn’t as simple a process as it seems.

Just as going to a party is no guarantee for having a good time, spending a week in some distant setting won’t automatically deliver everything the travel brochure promised.

If simply “going someplace” is all it takes to enjoy ourselves, we should be in the throes of ecstasy every morning we get up and hit the road for work. But it doesn’t work like that – something else is going on here.

In fact, it’s safe to say that:

Motion
+ Distance
≠ Pleasure

What’s missing in the formula?

The Missing Element

I’ve never been very good at math – and I’m grateful, because it’s precisely that reason which helped me gain insight into the equation of happiness.

In the moment / Photo Shutterhack

One day at age 16, I came home with algebra homework that had me completely lost. My grandfather sat me down and started working through the formulas with me, but still I failed to grasp it. He stopped for a moment, then looked at me and said:

“You know, I enjoyed algebra when I was a boy, because I saw myself as a detective, and the problems as mysteries. Now, you have to use the right tools in the right order – you can’t take fingerprints without dusting, for instance. If you go through each step, you eliminate suspects until you finally get the culprit and solve the crime.”

I wasn’t a huge fan of mysteries either, but it didn’t matter. I had a new way of thinking about the material, one which showed it in a completely different light.

From then on, I treated my homework not as “work,” but mysteries. My grades shot up like rockets, and I found myself actually enjoying math!

The scenario hadn’t changed, but had been redefined in a manner I could relate to. My early difficulty and later success were based on the inner perspectives that framed them.

Based on this experience, I learned that our inner attitudes dictate our relationships to things – and that these relationships can be changed to our advantage.

The Traveler/Tourist Illusion

Travelers see themselves as active seekers of fresh experiences, flexible in adopting new outlooks. Many of them thumb their noses at tourists, who seem outwardly unwilling to change their perspectives, preferring that the experience cater to their preconceived notions.

But it’s impossible to recognize attitude by outer appearance, and so the “traveler/tourist distinction” becomes an exercise in snobbery.

This isn’t to say some people aren’t ignorant – only that it can’t be pinned to any group of people or their activities.

The man in the Hawaiian shirt may strike up a conversation with a native – and, from that empathy, find his entire worldview completely rearranged. This man has traveled, while a backpacker “keeping it real” on a sparse budget may only be touring his own preferences.

The role is illusory – the difference is in attitude.

For those seemingly anchored to familiar islands of perspective, they remind me of my struggles with math. They lack a means of insight to a more enriching experience.

But no one – certainly not I – can claim their perspectives are in all ways superior, nor can we abandon our ingrained ways with equal ease. The key to insight is dialogue: remaining open to new ideas, tolerating difference, and helping one another see more.

Most importantly, it’s clear that difference in insight isn’t limited strictly to travel as we define it.

Travel Redefined

Uncover your potential / Photo Fred Armitage

What we consider travel is both inner and outer experience – not at all the traditional idea of getting away from it all, it’s really about getting to something new, within ourselves. The external venture is essentially a vehicle for an internal discovery.

Potentially, there is just as much potential for inner travel at home – volunteering for a community program, talking to someone from a distant place, even taking “the road less traveled” to work.

It’s all in what you look for: uncovering your potential in a physical or mental pursuit is more of a journey than going to Paris and seeing nothing.

There may be more travel in a sudden moment of realization than in a hundred thousand frequent flyer miles.

The art of travel is about making contact with the Moment: a timeless instance of profound awareness.

It may be frightening, demanding – it may have nothing at all to do with what you consider pleasurable. But what makes travel possible is your eagerness to become something more than the sum of your habits.

It’s the desire to step beyond your everyday bubble of comfort to see what’s outside.

However you reach it, whatever you discover: the essence of travel is self-discovery, exploring the limits of your world to finally arrive at your sense of meaning.

Phil Cousineau, in The Art Of The Pilgramage, says:

“If we truly want to know the secret of soulful travel, we need to believe that there is something sacred waiting to be discovered in virtually every journey.”

This equation adds up.

What do you think about this definition of inner travel? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Avraham Loewenthal in his studio / Photo Alexis Wolff

You likely wouldn’t look twice at 39-year-old Avraham Loewenthal if you passed him on the narrow cobblestone streets of Tzfat (also spelled Safed, Safad and Zefat), the ancient city in northern Israel that was the birthplace of Kabbalah, or Jewish mysticism.

Avraham’s head is covered by a large knit yarmulke, his face masked by a thick beard so long it hides his neck, and behind each ear hangs the curled tendril of hair that is custom of Haredi men.

In other words, Avraham fits right in.

But if you were to follow Avraham into his studio in Ma’ayan Haradum Square, the Tzfat Gallery of Mystical Art, and ask about one of the scores of contemporary paintings strewn about the small space, you might stand in shock as he speaks passionately about his works’ representation of basic principles of Kabbalah.

What he’s saying is interesting, but just as interesting is how he is saying it. This man who looks like any other Tzfat resident sounds American-Midwestern, in fact. That’s because before he was Avraham from Tzfat, he was Robert from Detroit.

I was so intrigued by a visit in March to Avraham’s Tzfat studio that I reconnected with him to discuss his thoughts on place, Kabbalah and art.

BNT: Tell me, first of all, a little about your life in America and how you ended up in Tzfat.

AL: I grew up in Southfield, Michigan in a Modern Orthodox Jewish family. I went to University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, taking different undergraduate classes with a psychology major. Then I studied painting at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

During college I found myself interested in meditation. I started looking into Eastern meditation and then someone told me about the book Jewish Meditation by Aryeh Kaplan.

I was surprised to see that there is a very deep tradition of meditation within Judaism.

Sunset in Tzfat / Photo phogel

Over the next few years I read three more of his books, and collectively they changed my life. In simple and clear words he explains the deepest and most meaningful ideas I had ever encountered, and I wanted to learn more.

While I was in art school, I came to Jerusalem to study for a month in a yeshiva. It wasn’t a Kabbalistic yeshiva, but it was still the next step in my spiritual journey.

After art school I wanted to learn more about the Kabbalah, so I came to Israel for six months as part of an artist-in-residence program in Arad, a city in the Negev Desert.

While I was there I visited Tzfat, and I knew immediately that this was what I had come to Israel for. Tzfat is one of the holiest cities in the world and the world center of Kabbalah. I found teachers here and a most beautiful community of spiritual people.

I came to Tzfat to learn Kabbalah, but there also happens to be an artist colony here. This allowed me to open up a gallery and combine my Kabbalah learning with my painting.

I have been living here now for about 13 years, studying Kabbalah and painting pictures based on ideas I am learning in the Kabbalah.

BNT: As someone who has called two very different places home, how much or little do you think where we live affects who we are?

AL: It says in the Kabbalah that a person’s environment influences him or her so much.

What people around us give importance to, think about and desire start to become the things that we talk about, give importance to and desire-so much so that even though we always have free will, on some level we only make one major decision in our lives… where we live and who we spend our time with.

The books we read are also considered people we are spending time with, as we are connecting to the consciousness of the author.

This is one of the reasons that Tzfat is such a spiritually powerful place. Since so many people here are giving great importance to their spirituality, these are the conversations going on.

BNT: Even though Tzfat felt comfortable to you from the beginning, was there anything difficult about adjusting from your American life to your Israeli one?

When I first realized that I wanted to live in Israel, I thought I would need to give up a lot of material comforts. But I haven’t. I have found only blessings living here.

Painting by Avraham Loewenthal

I do miss some of my old friends from where I grew up, but I married a woman, Rebecca, from Baltimore, who I met about six years ago at Shabbat dinner hosted by some friends down the block.

We have been blessed with two children, Ashira Rachel who is now three years old and Hillel Netzach who is nine months old.

One thing that did take some getting used to was my name. I was given the Hebrew name Avraham when I was born, but I was also given the English name Robert. I went most of my life using my English name.

One day before I was thinking about it, and I had a realization that my deepest name is Avraham.

I like the name Robert, but I realized that the name Avraham was given to me after my great-grandfather, who was named after his ancestor, who was named after his ancestor, and so on for 4,000 years.

When I game to Israel for the artist-in-residence program, I started to have people call me Avraham instead of Robert, and at first that was strange for me. Someone would call my name and I wouldn’t even know they were talking to me. But I soon got used to it, and it was a very big transformation.

It actually says in the Kabbalah that a person’s soul has a deep connection to their name, and one piece of advice given for someone (in certain circumstances) wanting to make a big life change is to change their name.

BNT: How interesting that you married a woman from Baltimore. Does Tzfat have a large American expatriate population, and if so, what about Tzfat do you think appeals to Americans?

AL: There are many former Americans here of all ages. Whether they come for a few hours, a day or two, weeks, months, years or forever, they become part of a community that is like a big family.

There is a distinct English-speaking community and a distinct Hebrew-speaking community, but these communities overlap and intertwine. Most everyone is here for the vibrant spiritual environment.

BNT: Tell me more about how your express your spirituality through your artwork. Can you explain how the principles of Kabbalah are represented in one particular piece?

AL: The main theme of the Kabbalah expressed in most of my artwork is the idea that at the root of all of our spiritual work in this world is coming to truly care for one another as we care for ourselves.

The picture here is a quote from the Torah. It can be translated as, “There is nothing but G-d.” There is a great deal of discussion in the Kabbalah about the meaning of this verse, but one of the ideas is that nothing in our life is a coincidence.

Even the most difficult and painful situations are actually on the deepest level hidden blessings because they help our souls come to a place that will be ready to finally experience infinite goodness.

BNT: I have to ask, what do you think about celebrities like Madonna taking up Kabbalah?

AL: Many people are critical of celebrities studying Kabbalah and also of it coming out in the world in different “pop” levels of learning. I don’t agree with this criticism. We have no idea what anyone else’s spiritual work is, so we cannot judge their path. We can only look inside ourselves.

Ancient prophecies say that the revelation of the inner teachings of the Kabbalah to everyone will be part of the spiritual transformation in the world, when six billion people finally come to truly care for one another.

I think that the Kabbalah coming out in the world today in a very big way, even if a lot of it is on a very “pop” level, is the beginning of the fulfillment of these ancient prophesies.

BNT: I’m curious how Avraham from Tzfat, formerly Robert from Detroit, defines himself these days: as an American expatriate, a Tzfat resident, a Jew, an artist? None of the above?

AL: At this moment I would define myself as an eternal soul trying to realize my spiritual essence and connect to the unconditional love that is the divine source of our every moment.

To see more of Avraham Loewenthal’s art, visit The Tzfat Gallery of Mystical Art.

Do certain places seem familiar? / Photo Djordje Korovljevic

Stepping off the train, the humidity settles over you, seeping into your pores, and the pungent mixture of spices, donkeys and sweat greets you.

The fig trees sway in the gentle Mediterranean breeze, cotton clouds scattered across the crystal blue-sky cast shadows over the plaza. Strangely, even though you have never been here before, you feel as if you’ve come home.

You have found a soul place.

A soul place is an island, a building, a city, or a natural vista that speaks to you in a language unheard. It opens up a space within that you didn’t realize was closed.

Jeffery Paine writes that a soul or sacred place is “a sense of connection between inner and outer landscape. The softening of the heart.”

Others would argue that the earth’s energy, things such as magnetic variances and ionization, creates an invisible sense of harmony and well being. This produces a sense of awe that is usually inspired by nature’s beauty.

Niagara Falls, a special place for many, is said to have the highest concentration of negative ions, caused by the quantity of the rushing water, in the world.

Memories From Our Ancestors

Richard Ford, Pulitzer Prize winning author, was born and raised in Jackson, MS. His wife’s job as a city planner took them to many cities but when they moved to New Orleans, Ford said he had “an instantaneous recognition.”

Even now, living in Maine, he considers New Orleans home.

Often we are inspired to build monuments on these sacred grounds: pyramids, cities, stone circles, churches, mosques. Whatever caused our ancestors to pilgrimage to these spots, it is still drawing us as well.

Scientists suggest that our genes may have the ability to carry memories from our ancestors.

Perhaps the earthy taste of freshly squeezed olive oil, never before experienced, causes you to feel as one with the rocky landscape of a Greek island. Could that be a mysterious taste welcoming you back to the land from which you came?

No matter the reason, we are inexplicably attracted to locations and feel a connection that we cannot readily explain.

In their special issue on Sacred Places, U.S. News and World Report states that that these spots are “as varied as the human sense of the sacred and as various as the world’s spiritual traditions.”

An Individual Definition

A soul place cannot be defined as purely a sacred place. The significance could be religious, spiritual, inspirational, or simply calming and peaceful. What defines a soul place is as individual as each of us.

Fellow travelers may experience different soul places on the same trip. The appeal of each location is as unique as the attraction between two people. A chemistry that flows, unseen and mysterious.

And like love, you can experience many soul places.One spot may appeal to your desire to play the guitar, another allows you an inner peace, while a third may feel like a comfortable old shoe.

Ask any group of people what their soul or sacred place is and the answers will be as distinct as the person.

In recent surveys, listed on Belief.net and on the U.S. News and World Report website, people posted a long list: Mt. Shasta, a civil war cemetery, a 250 year old oak tree, the Green Mountains of Vermont, the family farm and any number of religious buildings and sites.

The best thing about soul places is that they are an unexpected and welcome find. Keep an open mind and heart and you will discover yours.

Have you found any of your soul places? How did you know? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Praying Tibetan nuns / Photo sirensongs

With an estimated 4,200 different faiths being practiced in the world today, it is no secret the rewards gained from developing the spiritual self.

Our souls strive to be at peace, in love, and with joy, as we simultaneously endeavor to create comfortable material lives for ourselves and our loved ones.

Many times, the faithful will journey to legendary holy lands in efforts to revitalize, reaffirm, and renew their faith. These pilgrimages are such defining experiences that they nourish the human spirit for years after.

Out of the countless cities formed across the globe, none are regarded with more sanctity than the five listed below.

Bonded to history, legend, and faith, these sites attract believers who are willing to travel incredible distances to set foot on these holy lands.

1. Jerusalem

“At the Wailing Wall, the most religious site [in Judaism],
you’re imparted with a very strong sense of hope and
belief. To leave prayers in the cracks of the Wall feels
surreal.” – David Shevitz / Photo Rob Sheridan

One of the oldest cities in the world, Jerusalem holds incredible spiritual significance in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

It is the site of the Wailing Wall, the Last Supper, and Muhammad’s ascension to heaven. It is home to over a thousand synagogues, a hundred churches, and seventy mosques.

Upon entering, travelers are immediately awed by the city’s rich culture and history. Much of its original architecture remains intact and, depending on which part you visit, the spirituality that pulses through the city’s veins is almost palpable.

For a place to be so deeply embedded into the human faith and the point of convergence for three of the world’s most popular religions warrants true amazement. While Jerusalem may have a troubled past, its current identity as a city of religious coexistence is undeniable.

2. Mecca

Circumambulation around the Kaaba is only the first of many
detailed rituals of Hajj. / Photo forureyezonly

Islam’s holiest city is home to the largest mosque in the world, al-Masjid al-Haram mosque, and the Kaaba shrine. It is also the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad and each year, millions of Muslims arrive here to complete the Hajj.

The Hajj is the fifth pillar of Islam and must be achieved at least once in every Muslim’s lifetime. With the convenience of jet travel, more and more Muslims are entering Mecca to serve their faith and unite in their beliefs.

Believed to be founded by Abraham and his son Ishmael in 570, Mecca is now a fascinating blend between modernity and antiquity.

Rapid expansion has allowed for the appearance of beautiful architectural dichotomies such as the Abraj Al Bait Towers that stand across the street from the al-Masjid al-Haram mosque. Scheduled to complete in 2009, the Towers will be the tallest structure in Saudi Arabia.

Unfortunate for travelers who are not Muslims or Islamic converts, Saudi law still prohibits Non-Muslim entry into Mecca.

3. Vatican City

One traveler described Saint Peter’s as so exquisite “[it]
made time stop.” / Photo vgm8383

Ruled by the Pope, Vatican City is the spiritual center for the Catholic faith and is devoted to piety.

Everywhere, religious symbols and illustrations welcome travelers.

The Sistine Chapel, with Michelangelo’s iconic, painted scene of God giving life to Adam on the ceiling, is a popular destination among visitors. The unparalleled beauty of Saint Peter’s Basilica impresses upon people an immense sense of awe and appreciation.

In Saint Peter’s Basilica, travelers may attend mass and receive Communion. Afterward, the Pope gives a message of peace and blesses the crowd outside in St. Peter’s Square.

Under the Pope’s direction, Vatican City and the Catholic Church carry out their religious mission all over the globe. With one sixth of the world’s population following the Catholic Church, it is apparent that the Pope and Vatican City are significant sources of inspiration for the human spirit.

4. Varanasi

Religious ceremonies are held nightly along the banks
of the Ganges. / Photo orangetuesday

An ancient city along the banks of
the Ganges River, Varanasi is considered by many Hindus to be the center of the Hindu universe. Hindu legend tells of the deity Shiva founding Varanasi and taking up residence there once upon a time.

Perhaps the most important feature of Varanasi is its prime location next to the Ganges River, a river so inextricable from Hindu faith that, in one year, over a million believers will enter the sacred city to bathe in or drink its hallowed waters.

Travelers who have witnessed Hindu families bring the bodies of their deceased loved ones to receive the spiritual benefits of the Ganges’s water and then cremate the bodies describe the sight as truly stunning. For hours, the fires of cremation burn with incredible intensity. Afterward, the ashes are scattered across the holy river.

5. Bodhgaya

Monks say a prayer underneath the Bodhi tree.
/ Photo Matthew Winterburn

After 49 days of meditation sitting underneath the Bodhi tree in this sacred city, Siddhartha Guatama attained enlightenment and became the Buddha.

Buddhist legend says the Bodhi tree only grows when there is a Buddha present in our midst. For Siddhartha, the Bodhi tree sprang up from the ground the day he was born, heralding his entrance into the physical world.

Situated in front of the Bodhi tree, the Mahabodhi Temple is the holiest of Buddhist temples. Every year, pilgrims as well as monks and nuns travel to Bodhgaya to meditate under the same tree as the Buddha.

In the communal, tranquil silence, they listen for inner peace.

In December and January, the Dalai Lama stays in Bodhgaya, giving Dharma talks to the public. It is during these months that travelers have a good chance of hearing the Dalai Lama speak and even meeting him.

Pray. Sing. Meditate. Devote. Confess. Share your thoughts in the comments!

Mirror mirror on the wall / Photo rougerouge

When I was 16, an uncle gave me a book he thought I might like, by a man called Pico Iyer.

I did like the book–in fact, I loved it. But I soon became as fascinated with Iyer himself as with his writings.

Born in Oxford, raised in Santa Barbara, educated in England and Massachusetts, Iyer has followed a geographical trajectory that I, in my own way, have imitated.

We overlap without ever having met; a characteristic of the modern condition.

I find myself drawn to Iyer’s work not only because I know we share certain locales, certain geographical understandings, but also because his books are perpetually trying to answer the question: how does the modern world exist in the way that it does?

As a travel writer, Iyer emphasizes place and movement. We are always in motion–”global souls,” he calls us.

I grew up on a windswept cattle ranch on California’s southern coast, where all was wild and empty but for hills, and sea, and cows; now I live nestled among the terraced houses and university domes of Oxford, near to the Cowley road, a whirlwind of bars, cafés, tiny markets, rainbow-colored murals, charity shops and hairdressers.

Often I can scarcely believe that these two places coincide. I wonder how it is that I can leap so easily between them–and what this does to me. Does it stretch me, does it make me delirious?

In Between Worlds

After six solid months in England, I come back to the ranch for a visit, feeling myself in a state of in-between-ness.

I lie awake at night and take long naps in the early afternoon. I think of the sleeper’s hour in a city, the time when those late to bed and those early to rise share a moment’s dreamtime.

In the husky darkness, roads that otherwise never rest give a shudder of weariness; bars and pubs shut for the night, the grocery stores glow tiredly, then turn dark.

This is the song of urban living.

In Boston, as a student, I once walked to my apartment from a friends’. It was late, and the police had broken up our party.

It took me nearly an hour to cross from the almost-suburban outskirts to my cramped, central apartment, but the constant stillness sustained me: major roads, roads with life, with character, made brief, slumbering refuges for the weary and the displaced.

Here, at the ranch where I grew up, where my parents live still, here is the opposite of urban, and here that stillness, that mythical sleeper’s hour, is something altogether different.

Perpetual Jetlag

The coyotes do not cease their howling simply because the clock has slid its languid hands to three o’clock, nor does the wind abate; and the stars, moving across the sky in steady rhythm, still shine, or else the moon douses them with its faint light.

Perpectual motion / Photo fabbriciuse

Stillness shows itself in the early evening: before the nightly winds kick up, before the shadows crawl up the house, there is a moment, if you look out at the sea, in which all seems calm.

In my jet-lagged restlessness, all of this starts to almost make sense to me: the ranch, the city, the arbitrary rhythms of sleeping and waking, the way we move between places.

Maybe we live in a perpetual state of jetlag–and maybe this is why I sometimes cease to think how unlikely, how magnificent it is that when it is 3:30 in the morning on the Cowley Road, here I am at 7:30 on a California evening, listening to the frogs in the creek.

This is an impossible era; we flit from world to world as time-travelers.

We must have an instrument in our beings that allows us to accept that Oxford, dripping in her medieval spires and teeming with high street shops, rushed cyclists, robed students, tracksuited young mothers, can be as much a home to me as the Ranch, with all its ruggedness.

The Linked Universe

Sometimes it starts to slip out of my hands; I wonder if this is indeed plausible, if there is any way that the universe can produce two such opposite ways of living and then link them through a single human being?

Should I not be inept in one if I can move easily in the other?

Maybe the mystery is not how these worlds coincide, but how people move so effortlessly between them.

They coincide because geography dictates that they must; because populations are as mutable, as adaptable, as the earth on which they live, and for one to mirror another which has sprouted out of utterly different circumstances would be an evolutionary gaffe that would lead certainly–in our Darwinian minds–to extinction.

Maybe it really is that simple; and so we have all become constant travelers, often without even knowing.

There is a global culture of relatively affluent nomadism, such as my own, which transcends the idea that we can only be comfortable, can only thrive, in our original, circumstantial niche. And, as Iyer writes, “under jet lag, you lose all sense of where or who you are”.

So when we come down, when we emerge from the shadows of our travel-induced haze, we have the wonderful freedom to reinterpret, and to reinvent.

What are your thoughts as a global time traveler? Share in the comments!

There’s always time to meditate / Photo Troy B Thompson

Like most people, I often calculate my day once my head has cleared out the grogginess of the previous night’s sleep.

I need to get up, eat, shower, take entirely too many supplements, make sure I don’t forget any of the 20 things I need for the day such as my cell phone, keys, food, sunglasses, etc, squeeze in a yoga or dance class, push through any writing blocks while staring at my computer for hours on end.

Then I go grocery shopping, come home, cook dinner, clean a bit, talk to a couple of friends, try and sort through piles of mail or stare dismally at my Microsoft Money file, maybe do some laundry, watch a Sex and the City rerun and then suddenly it is 12am.

Time for bed. Oops, forgot/didn’t have time/am now too tired to meditate.

Why is it so hard for many of us to set aside time every day in which to meditate?

We are all busy people, yet we seem to find time for extended coffee breaks, often gossip for a bit longer than our work lunches are supposed last, and depending on the time of the year (and how soon we will find ourselves in a bathing suit), we definitely make it to the gym.

The Benefits Of Meditation

When we are traveling, our jam-packed schedules-o’-fun make it even harder to find at least five minutes for quite time.

Whether we have taken sanctuary for three days of intense meditation in the hills of Vermont, or were dragged kicking and screaming by a fanatical friend to get a hug from Amma, the hugging guru, or, lets face it, never seriously contemplated taking time to meditate, the rest of life just seems too busy to make room.

Note the “seems” part. Because if you don’t make mediation a priority, you’ll never find the perfect time.

And the interesting thing is that taking time to meditate may conversely give you more time, and space, in your busy life.

Meditating actually gives us many of the same benefits as sleep.

To a certain extent, it may give us even more payback since our minds are actually at work while we are sleeping. Many monks easily live off of two to four hours of sleep because of their practice.

During meditation, the most important component of stress–our thoughts–slow down from a lion’s roar to a dull, lifeless whimper.

Much like taking a physical vacation, where we are able to relax and reboot our systems, this mental vacation better prepares us for what lies ahead, whether that is yet another four-hour work meeting, or a traffic jam that keeps you on the road until the crickets have stopped chirping, as they have turned in for the night.

Making It Habit

Meditation makes you smile / Photo Premasagar

While it may seem impossible to quiet your thoughts at first, just as many of us can’t touch our toes if we haven’t stretched for 10 years, it becomes easier, and more satisfying, with time and practice.

What most “experts” recommend is to set aside the same time each day for meditating, whether it be five minutes or forty.

Most often, this is first thing in the morning (post-grogginess) or last thing before going to bed.

As with instilling any habit, this can be a good approach for some people. For others, like myself, this feels too structured for something that is both meant to be fulfilling and enjoyable.

So my secret is to wait until I’m either really stressed, or I’m working on something that I can’t figure out (and this, of course, is bound to happen daily).

These are times that our brains are desperately signaling us to take a break anyway, and often we do not listen and instead “push through it.” This impacts our short-term (sweating profusely, racing heart, delayed brain function) and long-term (anxiety attacks, high blood pressure, heart disease) health in a tremendous way.

Quieting the constantly running dialogue upstairs helps to balance both the body and the mind.

Start With The Breath

When we are traveling, while we may feel more relaxed than in our daily work lives, our bodies are still strained with all the planning, itineraries, deciphering directions, and yes, even extreme sports and 5pm cocktails.

Taking 10 minutes before happy hour to sit quietly and breathe will make the evening even more enjoyable, and who knows, may even help to subdue the next morning’s hangover.

We live in a time where we are all over-burdened with too many things to do.

It may seem to take on something new that may or may not jive with your personal religious/spiritual beliefs or agnosticism/atheism just seems too much to ask.

But there doesn’t have to be any dogma involved.

In fact, it starts with something that we all live by, whether we like it or not-the breath. And wouldn’t it be great to face your never-ending schedule with a calm, knowing smile on your lips?

That’ll be sure to rattle your coworkers.

How do you find time to meditate? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Be wary of flawed logic / Photo Dimitar Marinov

Logic is about staying awake – paying attention to detail to avoid being gulled into false conclusions.

Traveling out of your element raises the risk of erroneous judgment. Though mistakes may take many forms, being aware of proper logic will allow you to learn the concept behind the flaw, and keep alert to when they pop up.

In Part I of the Kung Fu Warrior’s Guide, I discussed foils to a few typical formal fallacies – logical arguments with flawed construction.

Now we turn to informal fallacies.

To illustrate, consider this sketch from Monty Python: a pet store owner tries to distract a customer, who demands refund for the recent purchase of his pet bird. When the owner claims the Norwegian Blue has beautiful plumage, the customer insists the point is irrelevant, as the bird is stone-cold dead and had been nailed to the perch to appear alive.

Informal fallacies are essentially distractions, addressing points having little or nothing to do with the issue at hand.

More varied than formal fallacies, they are perhaps more common – especially in bickering Internet forums, hokey salesmanship and shady politics. Like the uncle who made quarters appear from your ear, informal fallacies misdirect you into thinking something’s true when it isn’t.

Here are 3 types of informal fallacies:

#1: Ad Hominem

Ad hominem (”against the man”) is a biggie. These fallacies are committed by attacking not the statement, but the person making the statement.

“Otto insists travel can be done for practically nothing. That makes him a bum/communist/thief/spoiled rich kid/mooch/all of the above/etc.”

The one has nothing to do with the other. While a conclusion may be inferred by other sources – such as Otto’s fondness for Marxist literature and naming his dog Che – nothing can be deduced from the original statement.

He could just easily be a successful capitalist who’s written a book on budget travel, or a poor kid who’s learned how to get around with less. None of this can be confirmed.

Ad hominem attacks try to render a statement invalid by discrediting the speaker, and are often abusive as well as unsubstantiated.

Here are ten examples:

1. “Obama’s no patriot. He didn’t cover his heart during the National Anthem!” (A tame example, the faulty conclusion stated first.)
2. “What a geezer. McCain’s too old to be president.” (Abusive, not necessarily true).
3. “That guy who cut me off in traffic is a crazy &*%$ who %!$$* his $&!!*© with a rusty %ö$¼&!” (Obnoxious.)
4. “What do you know about explosives? You’re a woman.” (Unwise.)
5. “He supported the invasion of Iraq. I wouldn’t trust him to tell me the sky’s blue.” (Polarizing.)
6. “Man, what a snappy dresser! Surely he’ll give me a good deal on this car!” (An inverse example.)
7. “Hitler was a fan of Nietzsche, so I refuse to read any of his works.” (Guilt by association.)
8. “Travelers are hippy scum!” (Brilliant satire.)
9. “Mom’s an honest, God-fearing woman. When she says Santa’s real…” (Hoo, boy…)
10. “Men!” (Short, tedious and… really doesn’t say a thing, does it?)

Author and antitheist Christopher Hitchens welcomes ad hominem attack as a sign he’s winning, due to lack of reasoned argument. Unfortunately, though, appeal usurps reason in many areas of life, including shooting messengers who correct mistakes.

For example, Al Gore’s correctness about global warming has nothing to do with his politics. While his political leanings may draw his interest to the issue, the argument cannot be undone based solely on his affiliations – only the legitimacy of the scientific data. Period.

EEEEE-yaaa… (Remember, it’s an informal fallacy, so take it easy.)

#2: Ambiguous Statements

A: Here’s a list of the greatest songs of the seventies.
B: Everything on this list sucks. Therefore, these aren’t the greatest songs of the seventies.

Witness a fallacy of ambiguity. What, precisely, is meant by “greatest?” Greatest selling, longest on the charts, most widely recognized, most “mind-blowing“?

In this case, “greatest” isn’t defined, and can only be taken as subjective opinion. Nothing wrong with that – but there’s no ground for argument because taste isn’t something you can prove as true or false. “I like the Beatles” or “Thailand rawwwks!” are preferences, not propositions.

But the issue isn’t in taste – it’s in the uncertain term “greatest.”

A: I rewrote my list. Now, truly, it’s the greatest songs of the seventies.
B: But you forgot The Carpenters. The. Carpenters. You. Dolt.

Still ambiguous (and partially refuted by ad hominem). Note that ambiguity can work to your advantage; some politicians are magicians of double meaning:

“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” – Bill “Slick Willy” Clinton.

Spot the ambiguity!

Wawwww…

#3: No True Scotsman

Remain vigilant! / Photo Pakhay Oleksandr

John Q. Public sits down to read the morning paper. “Living in Sydney: Expat Tells All.” “Humph,” snorts John Q., “no American would want to leave the greatest country on earth.”

He continues reading about how much the expat enjoys her life abroad as a proud American, and clarifies his statement: “No true American…”

No True Scotsman fallacies are like moving the goalpost. A concept is set up; in this case, all Americans value being in America. Then the boundary is made fuzzy, and “American” is defined by display of patriotism.

It’s easy to see how “being American” or “patriotism” become unreliable criteria when someone refuses to stick to a definition. They both become exclusive ideas with shifting borders, usually for private gain.

In other areas, like the Tourist/Traveler Distinction, being a traveler becomes a tough-guy contest, while people who just want to take it easy for a while are made out to be ignorant and materialistic.

The problem is that the real matter of travel – meaningful experience – gets muddled by cliquish behavior. It’s easy to see how communities, even whole countries, can become polarized by a No True Scotsman fallacy.

Hehhh. Ahem ahem, cough cough cough.

Beware of distraction, grasshopper!

Informal fallacies can be subtle or glaringly obvious. But because there are so many of them, appearing so frequently, they are regularly accepted without much insight.

The key to avoiding logical trap is open-mindedness: acknowledging your preference, but allowing for another point of view. Only this will permit the pupil of logic to become enlightened to the ways of deception and move to a higher plane.

From a clear mind, the pupil becomes serene and wise; faced with human failings and logical pitfalls, the student rises from meditation, studies the peril calmly, and

KICKS SOME MAJOR LOGICAL ASS!
HWAAAAA!!!!!!

What do you think of informal fallacies? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Be wary of logical fallacy.

Travel is about moving beyond what’s familiar and into foreign territory.

Though the experience is more pronounced in jetting across borders, entering terra incognita can happen every day – striking up a conversation with a stranger, taking a different route to work, several days of rain turning your neighborhood into a lake.

All of these involve crossing boundaries of comfort for the “undiscovered country” beyond.

When your landmarks for reckoning are suddenly turned upside down, or everyone around you is heading in a direction you know is off-course, how do you get your bearings? What is your basis for making a reasoned decision?

Seeing the situation clearly is key to navigating the unknown. All travelers need to arm themselves with the intellectual tools to understand and deflect poorly constructed arguments.

Before you go storming the Himalayas in search of enlightenment, consider a slight detour to the kung fu training grounds for a class in Logic 101.

Introduction To Logic

Many think of logic as “that required course I could barely stay awake in.” The good news is that logic is much easier than most suppose, depending on how you look at it. The bad news is that it’s not always easy to practice.

The trick is to stay awake: sort fact from nonsense, watch for deception, look ahead to the next step, don’t get taken. When you get to a point where you can’t confirm a sound premise, use logic to “assert, deny, propose and refute.”

Most classes in logic start at or near the timeworn example of:

1. All men are mortal
2. Socrates was a man
3. Thus, Socrates is mortal

This is already beginning to sound like math somehow. Building a clock from scratch seems a little dry, without having seen one that’s already running.

What you need are some sturdy examples of logic in action. So, here goes: the fallacies.

Formal Fallacies

You’ve got two kinds of fallacy: formal and informal. A formal fallacy means the argument itself is bad because it wasn’t “built” properly. Like this:

1. Many people are beaten and robbed when they go to another country.
2. Therefore, you will inevitably be beaten and robbed if you go to another country.

Attack fallacies at every turn.

This is called an appeal to probability. While likelihood exists for becoming the victim of a crime, it’s not certitude.

In fact, you won’t know the real potential until you start comparing numbers to each other: total number of travelers, region or nationalities in question, motive for the attack, etc.

The flaw is in the structure, not the proposition: “possibly P, therefore P.” But there is enough room in probability that an attack won’t happen, so the argument is not completely valid.

KIAAAI!!!

Wow, that felt good! Let’s try another move:

“If you’re not staying at a four-star hotel with air conditioning, a swimming pool and 500 channels, you’re having a crummy trip.”

Did you spot the flaw? It’s hidden, so let’s try a converse example:

“If you’re not sleeping in a tent, scrounging your meals at the complete mercy of the elements, you’re having a crummy trip.”

This one’s called a false dilemma. A dilemma, no matter what you’ve heard, is a troublesome choice between two and only two options. Creating a false dilemma assumes that no other choice exists, when in fact there may be a whole world of possibilities.

Travelers looooove talking about the so-called Traveler/Tourist Distinction, because there’s no other way to enjoy yourself other than the terms which provided them with their life-changing experience. Clearly, that’s not so.

Don’t feel bad if you’ve been zapped by this one – it’s quite common of late. Consider one of the most well-known examples, from one George W. Bush: “Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.”

SAAAIII!!!

One last formal fallacy. The next one is the nirvana fallacy.

“I wouldn’t mind practicing green travel, but what’s the point? It won’t completely eliminate global warming, so screw it.”

Nirvana fallacies are failures of comparison between the realistic and the unrealistic. Very similar to a false dilemma, it reduces a more complex argument into a simplistic one.

The mistake is made in relating a pragmatic approach to an idealized result, rather than a pragmatic approach to an improved result. To say green travel is futile because it doesn’t eliminate all pollution is like saying dinner is a waste of time since you’ll only be hungry tomorrow.

The fallacy is in dismissing a reasonably good attitude because it doesn’t grant unreasonably good outcome.

HWAAAKII-CHAAAAA!!!

You are not yet mighty, grasshopper. There are a few dozen formal fallacies, and slightly more informal fallacies – and it must be stressed, “as you practice, so shall you progress.”

Simply being aware of the fallacies isn’t the same as proficiency. Logic is how it’s combated, and the only way to accrue skill is to look for strong arguments or where they falter.

It’s not about being skeptical, but cautious. “Sort fact from nonsense, watch for deception, look ahead to the next step, don’t get taken.” Have you so quickly forgotten, pupil?

Stay awake!

Have you ever felt like you were pressured to go someplace or do something “illogical?” What are some travel decisions you’ve made that “seemed like a good idea at the time?” Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Kirsty Pargeter

In a recent post traveler, journalist (and BNT co-editor) Tim Patterson provided a how-to guide for traveling free (or very cheap) – a practice that could be called “vagabonding.”

Soon after publication, he was promptly assailed by a number of readers for advocating a kind of “shiftlessness” and “irresponsibility.”

He was nailed with all manner of epithets – called irresponsible, a hippie, a bum, an idealist, impractical, a “rich, privileged, arrogant hipster,” the list went on.

In reality, Tim was just offering some practical low-budget travel advice. As such, the vitriolic feedback from the readers is way out-of-proportion.

But why is that? What brought on this storm of denouncements?

As humans, whenever we have a strong emotional reaction to something, it’s an opportunity to learn something about ourselves, the way our psyche works, the way our minds are wired.

When we react strongly, that’s usually an indication that some fundamental metaphysical axiom, in other words, some deeply held belief, is being challenged.

Mainstream Beliefs

Tim’s practical, low-budget travel advice struck a nerve with some folks. And my sense is that these are not oddball folks – rather they are probably fairly typical, fairly mainstream in their beliefs and attitudes.

I suggest this because one of the fundamental axioms held in our dominant Western “civilized” culture has to do with the importance of “getting somewhere in life.” From a very young age, we’re urged to achieve this or that, “become responsible,” and to make something of ourselves.

But aren’t I already something?

Of course, that isn’t what’s intended by the phrase – we’re meant to make something important of ourselves. And in this case, “important” means to embody success, as understood in the conventional way.

Stealing an illustration from Alan Watts, we ask: What’s the outcome of success in business as we know it? More business!

More business means more investment, more production, more stuff, more expansion, more proliferation of mostly material ticky-tacky, and to go along with all this, more bulldozing over ecosystems to make it all possible.

Now, granted, all this business – this busy-ness – has produced some technological marvels and various benefits to our lives and to society. But if one is to take a reasonably objective view, one has to ask the question, “At what cost?”

The Price Of Busy-ness

For all our technology and busy-ness, we’ve got nuclear weapons, climate change, deforestation, a precipitous decline in biodiversity rivaled only by the extinction event that did away with the dinosaurs, GMOs, And an environment full of toxic chemicals.

We’ve got Reality TV, high-density Confined Animal Feeding Operations and the largest disparity in wealth between the rich and the poor in human history.

To top it off, we’ve got an insane economic system that itself survives by accelerating the rate of all of these forms of destruction, desecration and depravity.

Even so, a belief held very deeply by most folks is that we are now better off than ever before in human history. But considering the above, I’m not sure about this.

Responsibility in our society means getting somewhere in life. It means making something of yourself. Yet as a vagabond traveler, there is only one requirement. To relinquish any notion of, or attachment to, getting somewhere in life or of making something of oneself…other than what one already is.

Being a successful vagabond traveler requires one to understand that the fundamental metaphysical axiom of our “civilized” culture is an illusion and is absurd.

A vagabond traveler realizes that naught but frustration, anxiety and suffering can come from blindly applying oneself to the futile task of endless consumption.

Examining Success

To illustrate this emptiness, here’s a short animation charting the conventional course of success.

To ask this question another way:

At what point when you have amassed X amount of personal fortune, accumulated Y amount of material possessions, and achieved Z status as ‘an upstanding member of society’ do you shout “Enough!” and commence living a life of contentment?

Looking around our society, it seems that hardly anyone has reached this point.

This is the defining characteristic of the conventional mind in our society – never satisfied in the present, never content with what is, always grasping for something more.

And we’re certainly inundated with enough marketing and advertising and PR to encourage this mindset.

The Awakened Vagabond

Photo by Julien Bastide

In a sense, the vagabond traveler is a kind of avatar for our society.

She is one who has seen the inherent emptiness behind the conventional understanding of success, who has realized the futility of living a life in unending pursuit of an illusory future happiness.

The vagabond traveler embodies the realization that there is no place other than here, and there is no time other than now. So if one is going to enjoy one’s life, it has to be done in the here-and-now.

If one is incapable of enjoying life in the present then one is incapable of enjoyment, period, because the present is the only time there is and “future enjoyment” does not exist.

In the Tao Te Ching (as translated by Stephen Mitchell), the word “content” appears 11 times. Here are some examples showing what Lao-Tzu was trying to tell us:

Chapter 44:

“Fame or integrity: which is more important? / Money or happiness: which is more valuable? / Success or failure: which is more destructive?

If you look to others for fulfillment / you will never truly be fulfilled.

If your happiness depends on money / you will never be happy with yourself.

Be content with what you have / rejoice in the way things are.

When you realize there is nothing lacking / the whole world belongs to you.”

A Higher Responsibility

The vagabond traveler represents a higher kind of responsibility – one who is more in touch with reality and the true nature of the Universe; although the typical mind will always label her as “out-of-touch,” “impractical,” and a “denier of reality.”

This mis-labeling and the anger that comes with it – the anger that was showing up in several of the reactions to Tim’s post on low-budget vagabond travel – arise because the deepest Self, beneath all those layers of conventional Mind, resonates with the truth exposed and illustrated by the liberated vagabond, the free-spirited wandering ascetic.

For one strongly identified with the egoic mind and thus caught up in conventional notions of success, that resonance is frightening.

This deepest Self, this universal thing that the Hindus call Atman, has hidden itself inside each of us, playing this colossal game of hide-and-seek.

This hallucination that we are “isolated centers of sensation locked up in a bag of skin” (what is indicated in Western psychological parlance by the term “ego”) – hides our true nature from ourselves.

The Universal Self

Tim’s essay on traveling for free struck such a nerve with folks because he wasn’t addressing individual egos in terms that are comfortable, but rather speaking directly to the Universal Self hidden within all of us in terms intended to draw it out and expose the ongoing illusion of our conventional lives.

This Universal Self knows full well the illusory nature of success in the conventional, egoic sense, and moves naturally to embrace the Tao of Vagabond Travel that Tim illustrates in his piece.

A strong negative emotional reaction to this Tao of Travel is simply indicative of folks’ identification with the ego. And when the ego is threatened, it gets defensive (we all know what that’s like). Who among us has never reacted angrily and all-out-of-proportion before?

Don’t be too hard on yourselves. Or each other. (Which is to say the same thing.)

As Lao-Tzu said:

I have just three things to teach:
simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and in thoughts,
you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.
(chapter 67)

Share your own thoughts on the Tao of Vagabond Travel in the comments!

Photo by Wazari

“Where is your Russian-ness, Katia?” an ex-boyfriend once accused me while visiting me in Amsterdam.

His remark was provoked by the fact that I didn’t offer him a whole cooked dinner – only a cup of tea with a cookie.

I wasn’t happy about his remark but I did start to think about my Russian-ness later, when I saw a program on Russia on the television.

The presenter of the program described Russian people as the nation of soul seekers, who dwell upon questions about existence even when there is no food in the house.

I was sad about the fact that some of my Russian roots seem to have gone to the wind, especially when the criticism came from a man with whom I used to have vivid fights about democracy in Russia.

“You don’t know the meaning of democracy in the Western world! And stop talking about my country in such a bad way,” I would shout at him, even ready to defend the image of my country in a physical way.

Keep On Keepin’ On

Nowadays, however, when someone asks me about the politics in Russia, I simply smile in an English elusive sweet way (I am in the UK now) and say something like: “Or you know, we always manage.”

There are a lot of articles about expats and research being done on those who leave their country in order to return afterwards. There are also a lot of articles and books about immigrants, those who leave their country for good.

But there seems to be little research on so-called ‘soul-seekers’ – those who leave their country with no precise idea as to where the journey will take them.

My friend from Italy is a perfect example of a ‘soul-seeker’. We met while studying in Belgium, she from Italy, me from Russia, and we both traveled to different countries afterwards. Margerita went to Russia, I went to the Netherlands.

For a while, Margerita stayed in the Netherlands, while I returned to Belgium, and I remember what she told me on one occasion: “I don’t know what is worse, to live in total misery or not knowing where you belong.”

No End In Sight

On a TV program in Russia, one man described how my people have always managed to live under extremely difficult conditions. He said:

“Here in Russia, we have life and daily survival. Life is about discovery, when you read, or write, or listen to music or just try to answer the questions about existence and the world around you. And daily survival is the job, the cleaning, metro, sleep. Here in Russia most people prefer to live.”

I would apply his description to the nation of soul-seekers, and all those who go for the discovery of wonder.

It happened to me. Never in my early life did I imagine I would leave Russia at the age of nineteen and change four countries of residence in eleven years.

I became a strange Russian-European hybrid. I have nostalgia for four different places and don’t feel one hundred percent happy in any of them, because I miss the other three.

I am simply between countries, cultures, friends, jobs and languages and am not sure whether I will ever settle in any of the places I visit. Travel is like an addiction.

I know that there are more and more people like me. They go to discover the world but realize at some point that they don’t know where they belong anymore.

Your own culture back at home may simply be not enough once you return. And so you travel again and again and again. Until you find your better half or reach retirement.

Frankly I am not sure what is more likely to happen, as I’m not married nor am I entitled to a retirement yet.

Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Dave Hogg

Travel is an amazing force because of the opportunities it affords to learn about new places, experience new things and meet new people.

However, travel can also be a tremendous force for healing.

In fact, strapping on a backpack and heading down the open road can be so powerful that I’ve come to call it the Travel Cure.

Everyone has heard a story about how the travel cure has made someone’s life better on some level, whether it be a physical, mental, emotional or spiritual improvement.

Recently, a friend told me about her stepfather who had experienced this phenomenon. Several years ago, he learned he had a degenerative, incurable heart disease, and one year to live.

He and his wife made the decision to sell everything, including their house, and spend his last year backpacking through the parched deserts of India to the towering domes of Russia.

Those who have had a transformative journey of their own know how this story ends: the untold benefits of traveling allowed him a new lease on life.

Without the stress of a demanding job and the day-to-day grind, his health improved to the point that he continues to live a normal, active life. His only worry now is looking for somewhere permanent to live.

Escaping Despair

My own experience of the Travel Cure was much less dramatic, but still testament to how travel can help save our lives.

After a series of events, including reverse culture shock and the death of a close friend, I was plunged into a deep hole of despair.

Soon enough, I was reaching for my backpack, ready for another adventure. This time, however, I wanted it to be more focused. I wanted to try what writer Elizabeth Gilbert terms ‘the physics of a quest.’ According to Gilbert,

“If you really are prepared to see anything that happens to you as an expression of truth that has been offered up for your own benefit and learning – then revelation will not be withheld from you. You will be shown who you are and what it all means.”

Open to expressions of truth, I headed for the gilded Buddha statues and dripping jungles of Thailand.

Finding Purpose

I had no solid travel plans. There was no itinerary, and no one to meet. My only guidebook was Joseph Campbell’s iconic Hero with a Thousand Faces.

I answered the call to adventure by landing in Bangkok in the middle of a dark warm night. On a whim, I headed south to the islands and beaches that have filled so many travel brochures.

One dusky evening, as I lay sleepily on my hotel bed channel surfing, something on the television caught my eye. A documentary came on about a village in Thailand created by a German-Thai couple for children infected with HIV/AIDS.

I was moved to tears as I watched the jolly former-CEO and his petite Thai wife’s venture of creating foster-style homes for these children who had been orphaned or abandoned because of their infection.

As soon as the sun rose, I contacted the German.

Lighting Candles

We arranged to meet in Bangkok, where he lived. He then drove me two hours north to the verdant, snake-riddled rural heartland of Thailand where the village was located.

Photo by Image After

I spent two days with the children, who were, for the most part, flourishing against the odds. I felt humbled, imbued with a new found sense of hope, and remembered the Chinese proverb, “It is better to light a single candle than bemoan the darkness.”

Having witnessed how precious and precarious life can be, and how these children embraced each moment, I closed my eyes, counted my many, many blessings and pledged to be optimistic and live in the present, no matter what.

At the village I met an Australian woman who ‘happened’ to be passing through and who had just published her autobiography, much of which centered on her work as a modern day Mother Teresa in Thailand’s most notorious prison, ironically known as the Bangkok Hilton.

Despite all of the pain and suffering she has witnessed and endured, she was one of the most positive people I have ever met. “I live on faith,” she told me. “I don’t have an income, I do God’s work.”

It was another encounter that made me happy I had found the courage to step out of my geographical and psychological comfort zone.

The Healing Power Of Travel

Taking note of the signposts and following them had opened up a whole new world. My understanding of the infinite possibilities became much broader.

Meeting people who had given up lucrative corporate careers to devote themselves to others planted seeds in my own mind and inspired me to do something meaningful.

When traveling, we are given opportunities and experiences that we otherwise would have missed. When we choose to see these experiences as significant, then they are ultimately healing, and help light our path as we step into the future.

I was able to return home with a magic elixir – the new experiences gave me a new perspective.

By changing physical environments, something inside of me had also changed. Just a month earlier, before I stepped off the plane in bustling Bangkok, I had been utterly depressed. Now, I was on my travel buzz, in awe of the people I had met and the beautiful things I had seen.

I was transformed. As Japanese Buddhist priest Shinso said 1000 years ago, “No matter what road I travel, I’m going home.”

What do you think of the healing power of travel? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Benjamin Orbach

As I waited for the monorail that would take me to my connecting gate at O’Hare Airport, the sun rose and painted red the lower edges of the Chicago sky.

It was the color of the elderly Sikh’s turban in Jaipur, the man who had sold me a bottle of water between handing out change to the pilgrims who passed his shop.

The red light reflected off of the station’s glass walls, steel-colored fixtures, and sparkling floor. For the first time in two and a half weeks, I was alone.

My backpacking vacation to India was a trip to a world filled with henna-dyed orange hair; freshly baked naan; maroon and gold bangles; 500-year old fishing nets; purple saris; green fields of tea plantations; and the “What is your name?” shouts of the 19 smiling kids who followed me through a Shekawati village.

My snapshots are colorful collages set to the clamor of chatter and traffic, but as I watched the sunrise in Chicago’s airport, it was the darkness of Mathura station and the scraping noise of the man who dragged himself along the platform that filled my thoughts.

Mathura Station

A week earlier, beneath the station’s dim lights, our train slowed to a stop and we jumped to the platform below.

My friend Fred and I jostled with other travelers so to climb the ramp and cross the bridge to platform 1 and the ticket window on the other side. At the ramp’s entrance, we streamed around the white-spotted cow like water flowing around a riverbed’s protruding stone.

It was 7:30 PM, Fred’s flight departed Delhi at 11:30, and we were a couple of hours away.

On the platform-bridge, wedged among bustling locals, I twisted away from the outstretched hands of older men who wore thick glasses and sidestepped between shoeless children in dirt-stained clothes who bobbed against the tide of the crowd’s momentum.

Shaking palms beckoned from the shadowy margins and little hands patted my legs.

Ten feet from the ramp’s end, a young man lay on his back. He clutched a black gym bag in his left hand and the sole of his right sneaker faced our approaching pack. His silver watch sparkled in the dim light; he wasn’t of the station’s inhabitants.

It had been a seizure, and an official in a tan uniform knelt at his side.

The crowd slowed, registered an unspoken acknowledgment to the randomness of the unexpected or perhaps the power of fate, and pressed on.

A Sudden Darkness

Photo by Benjamin Orbach

Fred and I searched for the ticket window, needing the express to Delhi. My navy shirt was tie-dyed with salty dried sweat. As Fred pointed to the ticket window, there was a collective gasp, and then black silence.

The station was engulfed in the darkness of rural India.

Before the lights went out, I had noticed the legless beggar on a wooden board. His curly hair reached for the ceiling and his hands were wrapped in rags that were once white. He had been dragging his way across the platform.

Adjusting to the black-on-black forms around me, I made out the beggar’s shape just a few feet away. Undeterred by the power outage, he continued along the platform. The scraping sound of his board against the concrete floor sliced through the thick air and rebounded off of the station’s walls.

Was he blind? I wondered. Did he realize that we were surrounded by darkness, or did it just not matter?

He maneuvered around still dark lumps – travelers huddled on bed-sheets for the night, their heads propped on baggage. Were we all just different shaped lumps?

Perhaps we had stopped existing to him, just as he had for us.

The Traveler’s Moment

Two minutes passed, a generator began to purr, and the lights flickered. India’s time-out for existential musings was over and the station’s traffic resumed its hurried pace.

As I tried to box-out locals so Fred could buy our tickets, I heard water hitting the ground. A few feet behind me, a large brown cow was going to the bathroom. Drops of urine splashed upwards, rising from the station floor.

Fred wiped some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and asked with a smile, “How much can you take?”

We began to laugh and a teenager cut in front of us. It could have been a scene from a movie or an overheard conversation at a bar.

But it was mine: my traveler’s moment.

My India moment, my raw moment of life where all senses inhale and flail and reach an agitated state of awareness where time stops – if only for a moment of pause.

What do you pay for a moment like that, for sound to stop and for smell to be suspended? For the chance to pause, to see through your eyes but also to climb out of your body, to step outside of yourself, and to see the details carved before you?

To survey the scene from above: yourself, the people, and the platform. To pull the camera back, slowly, on to the station, the parking lot, the taxis, the bicycles, and all of the people. To keep widening the shot until you see the slums and the buildings and Mathura itself, covered in darkness.

And then, to zoom back in, rushing from the third person back to your own two eyes, to hear the ebbs of human motion begin again with a shriek, or in this case, the scrape of a board.

To feel the hot air on your neck and the vulnerability of being aware of all the shadows; what would you pay?

Returning To Life

Deep down, when we are packing our bag or buying the ticket online, that moment of unconsciously saying ‘wow’ out loud is what we hope for.

When it matters too much that the copy machine takes three minutes to warm up, that some guy’s shoulder on the subway is rubbing against you, and that Peyton Manning is on Monday night football, again.

That moment, where you recognize that you are in a far away place, and have discovered something so real that you never could have imagined existing just a few seconds before, is why we take time out from what we have, where we are, and what we are doing.

While every trip has the potential to include a traveler’s moment, it isn’t something that can be forced or expected.

With most trips, I’ve found, it just doesn’t happen. They can’t be bought; sadly, there are no travel moment sure things. There is no exact formula for state of mind and state of venue that will strip everything away.

For me, in this case, it was ironic that the moment came in shades of black in a place that broke the color wheel.

In a place of a billion shouts, it was an indifferent scrape of a square piece of wood against a concrete floor that slapped my face, stopped time, and made me pause.

***

Back in O’Hare airport, the monorail arrived and the doors opened. Inside, a lone man with gelled blonde hair, wearing a crisp white shirt listened to his ipod and watched the sun come up.

He glanced at me–my beard, my dirty pants, and my hair that also reached for the sky–and returned to the window and his day.

Have you experienced your traveler’s moment? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Galyna Andrushko

Find yourself in solitude. Everybody hears this time and time again.

From the punishment of youth when sent on “timeout” to the isolation every individual needs in order to hibernate with one’s emotions. Even through days of work, locking the mind and body behind concealed doors in order to cram a semester’s final paper or spurn a creative project.

Isolation, solitude, being alone-these words derive a connotation of growth and progress. They emphasize a deeper understanding not only of one’s surroundings, but also of the most significant and empowering quality-finding oneself within the present moment.

Who are you, I dare ask? Where are you? What are you doing, exactly? Why?

To find out I’ve a suggestion: quit work, take a leave of absence from work or school, and buy that one-way ticket to nowhere.

To travel alone is to find the answers you’ve been seeking and discover the questions to all your unfounded thoughts. It is your world. It is your adventure.

1. Responsibility

The one thing carrying the most weight, the quality of personality that enabled you-the solo traveler-to get here in the first place, is responsibility.

To take one’s life within one’s hands and have the freedom and maturity to mold it into shapes, forms and experiences of one’s desires is to embrace this basic knowledge. On the actual day we take responsibility for ourselves, our lives begin to change.

We witness how we are responsible for everything we do-each thought, word, action and emotion. This acceptance of our own responsibility for the life we lead provides us with the power to change. We become the artists of our lives.

In the words of Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller, “Why should I deem myself to be a chisel when I could be the artist?”

2. Self-reliance

After the hurdle of self-responsibility there evolves a new respect and a new dimension toward living. Self-reliance is the response.

See it as the art of flotation after leaping into the air and clearing the hurdle of responsibility. It’s the sense of lightness and contentment. It’s a joy of accomplishment surpassing those worldly possessions left behind. “I am Lion! This is my Life! Hear me roar!”

3. Independence

Welcome to independence as you come down after the initial high and hit the ground running. You are now shaved of everything but your Self.

You are living your independence. No longer do you require anything other than yourself for happiness. No longer do you search for those outside fulfillments.

From the start, you were already alone. You were most likely in mother’s womb alone. And now you’re traveling, embracing this solitude, allowing you and only you to make all your decisions; what to eat, where to sleep, which train to catch and at what bus stop to depart.

You are the captain in your very own captain’s chair. Want to sleep in the middle of the day, read on a bench the rest of the afternoon, take long midnight strolls out under the stars? Fine. Do it, because no one is stopping you except your hesitation.

4. Likes & Dislikes

Now through these various layers of your evolution of mental, physical, emotional and spiritual growth-the solo-wanderer comes to terms with likes and dislikes.

Traveling alone affords the individual solitude in order to step out of society’s role-playing games. It absolves all expectations of you. You don’t have to listen to anyone. You don’t have to meet anyone’s needs. You have no schedules, appointments, meetings or deadlines with projects, papers, exams, etc.

It’s just you. And through the sifter of the mind you begin to remember who you are, remember which elements and ingredients in life you enjoyed the most and those you enjoyed the least. Then, without hesitation (you must drop this), you leap upon the likes and forever discard the dislikes.

5. Emotions

Emotions are a combination of mind and body sending you messages. They tell you where you are on a physical and emotional level. They inform you where you need to be-again, physically and mentally-in order to be healthy and whole.

With a continued awareness of what turns you on and off, emotions arise. They are not your friend’s emotions, your roommate’s, or your lover’s no matter how you might wish otherwise. Those persons aren’t here. You’re alone.

Emotions are the parts to your totality-the inner psyche-and in seclusion may one best decipher their keys sounded from the past.

The solo-artist may come to terms with the depth of Ralph Waldo Emerson when he said, “None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone.”

6. Patterns & Reactions

Photo by Cam Karsten

Stepping out of our routines and daily lives clears the traveler’s vision. So often we live in the past or future. We do not stop to see and be the present moment-our present moment.

Indeed, it’s a gift, and to let this gift slide away over and over again is to miss the beauty of the day, the hour, of the minute and its seconds. They will never come again.

Patterns and our reactions to these patterns are what prevent us from living and taking part in the beauty we are gifted. By frolicking in the unknown we’re able to witness these patterns from afar and see how we react to them.

With a continued awareness we can prevent ourselves from falling into old habits and bygone ways. Each new day is our rebirth and each new breath can be as if we are inhaling for the very first time.

7. Past Analyzation

You’re soaking in the Andaman Sea off Thailand’s western shore. You see a woman walking the beach who reminds you of an old lover, a past friend, someone against whom you’ve carried a grudge for too long.

You’re alone. You have that isolation to observe your thoughts. Therefore, you reach deep into the past and sift through the relationship’s components.

These moments of past analyzation allow one to heal sore spots, to lick old wounds and overcome the pain still carrying into today, whether exhibited upon themselves or others.

Through this process of self-healing, the solo-sojourner may reunite with another and develop a more mature relationship; one more natural and unconditionally loving for the benefit of both parties, which includes the surrounding environs.

Past analyzation while traveling alone affords the adventurer a journey into the past to reclaim forgotten lessons and repressed emotions.

8. Future Dreams

Next we leap out of the past, through the flicker of the present and into the vastness of the future. Here, unfettered possibility rests. The future is boundless. It is borderless.

It is imagination free of any construct built by the past and not portrayed by the present. The future is your dreams’ playground.

During travel, see the future as everything and nothing. It’s your empty canvas, and there’s no better time to wallow in hopes, dreams and possibilities. So extract your journal and write, draw, scribble and dabble the imaginary creating anything the heart desires, no matter how selfish or selfless.

It’s the Law of Attraction – all that is necessary in life is asking, believing and then receiving with gratitude.

9. Care for Oneself

The above eight steps are not concrete. They are not rules or dictations. They are mere ideas thrown out into a world of utter possibility and endless variety.

In essence however, they are the steps of an evolutionary journey, which can be taken at anytime, anywhere, by anyone. Yet a personal journey is best undergone in the silence of one’s own presence, and traveling alone promotes this introspection with ease.

Solo travel teaches the pilgrim to care for their own self – because it’s only when one masters self-care that the individual will be able to advance. Only when peace is established at home will one be able to spread peace throughout the world.

10. How to Love

The finale is love itself. Love is the master. When living with love, all thought, word, action and emotion radiate from this core of our being-that being love.

Through solo-travel, and through the varying evolutionary processes of the pilgrim’s own psyche, he/she rides the expressway into the heart and splashes in an indescribable feeling of love and peace.

And from the words of one final sage upon the doorsteps of this last stage of personal growth spoken by Joseph Campbell, “You are that mystery which you are seeking to know.”

You are the love you first sought, whether conscious of it or not. Your personal journey, either in this lifetime or another in the future, will bring you to this center within yourself. Traveling alone upon a solo-quest is the perfect catalyst for this grand voyage given to the human being as a birthright.

So go find yourself in solitude where the inner landscapes of personality become most audible within a world of possibility.

What have you learned about yourself from solo travel? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by PocketAces

When I was a little boy one of my treats was to go to the local candy store and get my penny bag of candy.

I looked around at all the fabulous glass jars on the shelves and the aroma of all the flavors sent me on a trip of delights.

I then had to choose which jar of candy I would like. Tough decision for a six year old with only one penny to spend (well, it was over fifty years ago).

Once I pointed to the jar that was making my mouth water, the old man would take the jar off the shelf, unscrew the lid and carefully weigh out a few ounces of candy on the little scales.

A four-ounce weight went on one side and the candy was poured on the other. I thought him to be a mean old man, for not one fraction of an ounce was given away. The scales had to balance exactly on the mark.

Finding The Balance

The amount of candy I bought for one penny was just the correct amount to last me through the week. I would eat a few pieces each day and at the end of the week it was time for my allowance of one penny again.

There were a few occasions when I was given more money by an uncle or aunt and I would buy a huge bag of candy and stuff them down all at once.

Rolling round the room with stomach ache and a few bouts of being sick soon cured that. I realized very early that you can have too much of a good thing.

If the old man in the candy store would have tipped the scales and given me more candy I believe I may have been sick more often. I realize now he was being kind to me by balancing the scales and not giving me more than my allotted share.

It is a shame greed has become so fashionable these days.

Gaining A Perspective

Balance in all things is the correct way to live. So how do we balance our scales to get the correct perspective of life?

Allowing time-out to sit in silence, so that our mind can relax from all the pressures that modern living brings, will help us find inner peace. Every human being can locate a source of information and wisdom that has shaped the authentic side of humanity over millions of years.

If our thoughts and actions do not bring true joy, without any materialistic attachments, then they may not contain too much genuine meaning.

To obtain the sweetness life has to offer we cannot afford to unbalance our scales (mind) or we will become frustrated and angry. We must weigh up each situation that comes into our lives and balance our thinking, so we understand what feels good and what doesn’t.

Our candy shop is the world we live in. We are born into a magical globe called earth, full of beauty and bliss.

Intoxication Of Life

We are intoxicated with the aromas and visions of all the candies of nature. We only need our fair measure of wealth, brought to us by the fruits of our labor.

Too much will make us sick. If we think we have too little, we will think life is mean and build jealousy and hatreds.

Balancing the scales of thought to embrace the joys of a human experience is taught through the guidance of inner wisdom that encompasses the human spirit. It allows all humans to live as equals with no divisions from personal view-points, color, creed, religion or any (non) belief systems.

As we learn to embrace the gift of being alive on earth’s wondrous playground, our love and joy will spread out to reach everyone we meet and greet. The non-tangible delights and invisible treasures of a human life will last us until the day we leave for the next journey somewhere beyond the beyond.

We only have a small allowance of time on earth…We should spend it wisely in peace and harmony.

What are your thoughts on balance? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Zweettooth

The desire to travel can be spurred by a variety of motivations. To see the world. To push our boundaries.

Perhaps to gain the ultimate truth: enlightenment.

But what is enlightenment? And how would we know it if we found it? For me, I’ve found a valuable guide in Zen Buddhism.

First of all, I confess I don’t actually know much about Buddhism. I know more than some people, but I recognize that in the bigger picture, it’s not very much. In fact I don’t consider myself a Buddhist. I don’t walk around in a robe or have a bald head, and I’ve never lived in a monastery.

Second, there are many different schools of Buddhism, just as there are many facets of the world’s other religions. Some sects are more strict than others and have differing views on Buddhist doctrines.

For the purpose of this article I will explore the sect of Zen Buddhism.

Finger Pointing At The Moon

If I told someone I was a Buddhist they probably couldn’t help but conjure up familiar images of monks and jolly looking statues with rounded bellies. It’s usually not deliberate.

As soon as someone tells you that they belong to a certain religion or group or political party, the stereotypes come tumbling after.

The only way to negate the onslaught of these stereotypes is to not fight them at all. Instead, it is far better to recognize them as stereotypes than to block them from entering your mind in the first place. This is the path to Enlightenment.

“Buddha” simply means “One who has become Enlightened.”

The first man to become the Buddha lived a few thousand years ago in India. He was a prince to whom every whim was catered, every desire satisfied. Yet he saw the misery of the people around him and decided to give up his privileged life in favor of discovering the source of human suffering.

After a long journey, the prince came back with the some profound insights, including the Four Noble Truths. The most important of these Truths can be distilled as duhkha (doo-ka).

Cycle of Suffering

Photo by Bugtom

Duhkha is a Sanskrit word that refers to a wheel out of kilter, a wheel that performs an important function.

Like a warped wheel on a cart that causes the passenger great discomfort as it wobbles, rises, then drops – only to be repeated again and again.

“Something basic and important isn’t right. It bothers us, makes us unhappy, time after time,” says Buddhist teacher Steve Hagen in his book Buddhism Plain and Simple.

“Of course there are moments of pleasure, but no matter how hard we try to cultivate pleasure and keep it coming our way, eventually the pleasure recedes and the disturbance and vexation return.”

The first Matrix film was an exploration in Buddhist philosophy, veiled in the guise of an “action movie with killer robots.”

In the beginning Neo is much like a normal human being, wandering through life with little confidence as to why he exists in the first place. He just knows that something is wrong – something is out of kilter and to use Morpheus’s words, Neo just can’t seem to figure out why that is. This is duhkha.

Duhkha arises from not “seeing” Reality. In Neo’s case, the Reality he couldn’t see was the Matrix. Morpheus allowed him to awake from the cycle of duhkha by telling him the truth. He simply showed Neo his Reality – that he was a human battery living in a tube.

And what was the result? Neo became enlightened…and proceeded to kick a lot of robot ass.

A Fist Of Jewels

But you say life is hardly like a movie? Quite true. So let’s look at another example as provided by Steve Hagen:

“Suppose I were to come up to you, hold out my closed fist, and tell you that I have a jewel in it. Now, I might be lying or I might be telling the truth. Either way, you have little to go on. As long as my hand remains closed you don’t know whether or not I have a jewel in it. The most you can do, given the limited information I’ve provided, is believe or speculate that I have, or don’t have, a jewel inside my fist.

“Only when I open my fist can you see if there’s a jewel in it or not. And once I do it, the need for – and usefulness of – belief vanishes. You can see for yourself whether or not there’s a jewel, and you can base your actions on what you see, rather than on what you think. So it is with any issue, question, or dilemma. We therefore cannot rely on what we merely believe if we wish to see Truth and Reality. We can only rely on actual perception and direct experience.”

Once you begin to see reality for what is really is, a lot of amazing things start to happen. You start to question the things that have bothered you in the past and continue to be a source of stress today.

Much of what we strive for – wealth, love, happiness – are valid desires, yet are sold to us only through material products. See the reality of television commercials and advertisements on the street. What are they really selling you? A product? A false path to being satisfied with your body and your life?

“Think about the sorts of difficulties we have dealing with our reality – our personal reality and that of our society,” writes Canadian philosopher John Raulston Saul.

“Much of that difficulty comes not from reality but from our denial of its existence. False individualism comes from the false sense of how we might fulfill ourselves. Self-fulfillment does not come from setting ourselves apart. It is the result of accepting our context.”

The Eternal Now

The average person watches nine years of television in their lifetime. Nine years. That’s a third of the time I’ve been on this earth.

Certainly it’s a statistic horrendous enough to get some of those couch potatoes off the sofa. But what is the alternative?

Some people believe the only way to “seize the day” is to parachute out of airplanes or ski down a glacier Mountain Dew-style. But for those people that see reality, seizing the day is really just experiencing the “now” within the context of Reality.

“Now” is what you’re doing at this moment. It is you sitting in your chair, hand on the mouse, pupils reading the words on this screen.

It is your lungs breathing the air and the itch behind your ear. “Now” is the present – a moment in which we perpetually exist. There is nothing else, other than this moment. The past is a collection of memories in your brain, the future a collage of your colourful imagination.

The events which you think may happen in the future may become the “present”, or they may not. Either way, there isn’t much else to do but enjoy the “now.”

“This provides us with a chance to wake up,” says Steve Hagen.

“You have this chance to wake up right now, in this moment, and in every moment. Most of us tend to think that it’s the other way around, that we’ve got to figure something out. But no. We don’t need to figure out our own experience; it’s already here, firsthand. Thus enlightenment is already yours.”

Following these ideas, I have had some amazing rides on the skytrain. I’ve marveled at the way the sun casts it’s rays through the leaves of trees, and at the feeling of sand in my fingers. I’ve stood in the rain and felt it dribble down my back. I’ve never passed up an opportunity to take the stairs, simply because it feels so good to walk.

And I’ve come to realize that true freedom is not the choice between eight different kinds of hair conditioner, but to not desire anything at all in the first place.

Engaged Reality

This is not to say that nothing is worth doing. I’ve never been skydiving before, I hope to some day try it out. And there’s no shame in the excitement of unpacking a brand new television.

It’s just a matter of stepping back and basking in the glory of the raw experience, whether it’s a good experience or a painful one. After that, writes spiritual guru Dean Sluyter, “we again see magical shapes in the clouds, even as we seamlessly handle our grownup responsibilities. There’s no conflict between these two modes: we can be childlike without being childish.”

Here lies the contradictory nature of seeing reality.

For if you don’t look hard enough, it’s easy to slip into the idea that to abandon desire is to abandon purpose and motivation. That the only thing left to do is live in a hermit shack atop a lone mountain, periodically emerging to collect berries and shake your head at the “un-enlightened masses” down below.

In fact, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. To notice timelessness is to receive the gift of the now, to accept the present of the present. This moment is already how it is; it’s too late the change it.

Release From Suffering

To accept the reality of the present is to release your mind from worry, from duhkha.

Of course, this doesn’t excuse you from responsibility, or from being numbed into zombie-like compliance. If your job sucks, ask to do something more interesting. If your boss denies your request, either find the fun within your current job, or quit and do something else.

Seeing reality means accepting that there are problems in the world — that drunk drivers kill people everyday, that governments start wars, and that no can be blamed for your remaining in your current situation but yourself.

But don’t let that dishearten you. Now that you see reality, you’re free to do something about it.

Unfortunately, there is one certainty that we can do nothing about.

We can stall it with technology, push it aside with entertainment, or let it hang over our heads like a black cloud, poisoning our experience of life.

This certainty is death.

For most of us, death is pretty depressing. It’s the end of the line. The black void. But I believe most of us have got death all wrong.

When you step back and attempt to see reality, to imagine yourself in the larger context of life, you realize that there would be no life without death. Mortality is perhaps the greatest gift given to those who embrace life with an open mind and a heart to gather it in.

Think about it, says Steve Hagen.

“Pick up a flower – a beautiful, living, fresh rose. It smells wonderful. It reveals a lovely rhythm in the swirl of its petals, a rich yet dazzling color, a soft velvety texture. It moves and delights us. The problem is that the rose dies. Its petals fall; it shrivels up; it turns brown and returns to the earth.

One solution to this problem is to ignore the real rose and substitute a plastic one, one that never dies (and never lives). But is a plastic rose what we want? No, of course not. We want the real rose. We want the one that dies. We want it because it dies, because it’s fleeting, because it fades.

It’s this very quality that makes it precious. This is what we want, what each of us is: a living thing that dies.”

All Good (And Bad) Things

So that’s the truth of it. All of us will die eventually.

For some it will be sooner, for others much later. Everything we own, everything we worked so hard to afford – that nice car, the house, the stereo – will be lost. We can’t take it with us.

And we can continue to deny this reality of our existence, for which we will endure great duhkha, or we can choose to experience the time that we’re given and leave behind a legacy of peace and understanding.

Human beings will always have problems, there’s no way around it. But it is the experience of working through them that allows us to grow and to learn. And what is life if not a learning process?

In a nutshell, that’s the basics of Zen Buddhism.

So the next time you turn the handle of your front door and step out into the wide world, see reality and realize that no matter what your problems, chances are, they’re probably not that bad.

And remember, as Neo discovered, there is no spoon.

Photo by Claude Renault

Much like the billion others who read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, I fought the immediate urge to chuck my job, rent, friends and credit card bills and book the first available flight to India so that I could meditate all of my problems away.

And my cross-continental spiritual journey might have become reality, if only I had found a credit card that still had room for a $2,000 ticket.

Ah, the romantic notion of becoming a different person by simply sitting in silence in an ashram for eight hours a day, doing a couple of hours of work seva, and eating vegetarian meals cooked by committed spiritual disciples-what could be better?

Well, knowing myself a bit more and jumping a little less quickly than I did at 22, I realized this situation wasn’t exactly, well, feasible at this point in my life.

I needed to finish my Masters thesis, I had already taken a long trip abroad the previous year that left me quite penniless, and the student loans were coming due.

Oh, and I didn’t have a job, which in theory may seem like a good reason to take a spiritual jaunt across the world, but in actuality makes it hard to afford the plane ticket.

Enlightenment Abroad

What is our Western obsession with India and spirituality?

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that India is the birthplace of Buddhism (very spiritual), that many Indians are wrapped in saris and marked with bindis (somehow denoting a religious attitude).

But do we really need to travel halfway around the world in order to get some of this spiritual grace, some of this contentedness, some of this sanity?

Without money to get to the Golden Temple, I decided I might try to get myself a piece of spiritual action in my own neck of the woods.

Looking Locally

I live in the San Francisco Bay Area, so ashrams are a dime a dozen. Pick a spiritual/religious affiliation and press play.

There’s the Buddhist Zen Center in the middle of a hipster neighborhood in San Francisco, and another out in the rolling hills of upper-crust Marin County; there’s the Hindu Siddha Yoga Ashram in Oakland whose website gives information about where to stay locally, but advises “walking from the hotel is not recommended”.

Or if I wanted, I could study meditation, dreams and out-of-body experiences at the non-denominational Berkeley Gnostic Center.

If you’re looking for similar local inspiration, you may be curious about how I actually found these places.

Ask Your Friends

Photo byLumiere

For me, word-of-mouth worked wonders: if you talk about your quest for spiritual enlightenment, people are bound to perk up with their opinions about how best to go about getting there.

If you ask in the right circles, you will be surprised how many people have gone on their own journey of self-discovery who may not have discussed it for fear of other’s reactions.

If you notice one particular place seems to come up over and over again; if you are constantly being bombarded about one center, a person might liken it to synchronicity in the works.

Ask The Internet

Then take your research to the web-just because spiritual organizations are above human vices, they are rarely above technology that pulls in more people to their way of living.

This is a good time to find out some more in-depth information about different practices, especially if you aren’t yet sure which one you are drawn to most.

Find Your Comfort Level

I decided on participating in a young adult’s week-long meditation retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Woodacre, CA, partly because of hearing about the center from person after person, and partly because their website so clearly defined the retreat process, the facilities, and the sliding scale costs (and financial aid if needed).

Cost shouldn’t be a hindrance, and most of the larger spiritual centers work from this belief. Be sure to ask about financial assistance or the possibility of paying on a sliding scale.

Scour Your Block

You might even stumble upon a free group that could be meeting right next door to your house (or as it turned out in my case, three doors down).

Don’t forget to check out the front area of your local grocery store. There’s usually a large cork board where local people hang advertising fliers – this board is an untapped resource for making connections with a spiritual group.

Spiritual groups tend to meet monthly or even weekly, and as with most everything else, community plays an important role in both developing and sticking to your practice.

Do I do yoga at home? Sometimes. Do I do it for half as long or with half as much effort as when I go to a yoga class? Not even close.

You may have to hunt a little to find what you are looking for, but persistence pays off, especially if you don’t have the time or money to make a trip out of town.

Home Sweet Home

Finally, don’t forget that there is a corner of most of our homes that either has a half-dead plant sitting in it, or is simply filled with dusty magazines, most likely including a TV Guide dating from 1988.

Clearing even a small area in a spare room or your bedroom to create a “sacred space,” whatever that means to you, can be both a mental and physical reminder to slow down and sit in the mystery.

I have an altar in the corner of my bedroom that holds artifacts from many of my travels, quite a few derived from different spiritual sects, and others are simple items such as a rock from a trip to Santa Cruz, or a nut from a forest in Germany.

The Truth About Spirituality

Anything can be spiritual if you make that connection. Because I have to see the altar on my way to bed, I often stop to light a candle and sit in front of it for 10 minutes or so before crawling under the covers. What a difference this little (non-pesky) habit makes.

In my case, some time after I felt that urge to visit India, I began to realize I was depending on an exotic destination to instill something in me that I should be able to find anywhere, because essentially, it is something that already resides within me.

Take the pressure off of yourself to become that yogic, enlightened being in “30 short days,” our American mantra for self-improvement, and let the little movements make the big changes.

And save that $2,000 ticket for after monsoon season.

What are your tips for finding spirituality at home? Share in the comments!

Photo courtesy of Cam Karsten

Yoga is the art of release. It is the study of one’s concentration upon the diverse layers of the body, mind and spirit.

This ancient tradition of breath, movement and meditation, developed within the Hindu culture of the Indian subcontinent, becomes the practitioner’s sacred ritual.

Finding the right yoga retreat is just as important a part of one’s practice as a particular inhalation of breath, an exhalation into a specific posture, or the proper stillness of silent observation.

Only by choosing the right retreat will you achieve the relaxation necessary to let go and discover the true depths of your yogic journey.

The Destination Is Also The Journey

There are thousands of yoga retreats to choose from. They come in all different shapes, sizes, destinations and packages.

Some retreats offer 24/7 yoga, strict meal guidelines, and absolute silence. Others begin the day with a series of opening postures (or asanas in Sanskrit), and then immerse participants in the local culture of the region, with plenty of restorative downtime before a final series of relaxation poses.

So, how do you find the right retreat for you?

First, close your eyes…

Now, take a long inhalation through the nose. Hold. Now release all breath out of the mouth. Settle into your seat and relax.

Imagine yourself doing yoga. Imagine the setting. Where are you?

Here’s where I am. I’m on a beach. I’m not in the Himalayas watching a fast approaching lightning storm upside down while shaking in Sirsha-asana (head-stand pose).

No. I’m in the tropics, half naked (okay… completely naked) on warm sands, listening to the sound of the ocean’s waves cresting upon a coral reef. Breezy palm fronds rustle overhead and their shadows offer refreshing shelters.

I am far from the office, the phone calls, the expectations others’ harbor of me. These distractions are long gone and far out of mind. I am relaxed, warm, at peace and loving life.

Your perfect yoga setting might be different from mine – or not. No matter, it’s your yoga practice (as the conscious instructor reiterates); therefore it’s your yoga retreat.

Take Me To Your Leader

Photo courtesy of Cam Karsten

OK. Now the next important element of the practice is picking your instructor.

Who is it that will lead you through the doorways of your “guesthouse” as the Sufi mystic Jelaluddin Rumi referred to when speaking of the body? Whose guidance will you trust and surrender to?

At best, if a professional institution certifies the teacher you have no reason to doubt their practice and capabilities. However, each person’s style of teaching is unique and each system of yoga is different.

Search their name on the Internet, and read their website. If they’re local, try one of their regular classes. Acquire feedback and read their students’ testimonials. Where have they led retreats before?

Most importantly, find an instructor whose style of practice and system of yoga aligns with your needs. But how do you do that? There can’t be that many traditions of yoga…

Oh yes there are. Hatha Yoga, Yin Yoga, Flow Yoga, Ashtanga Yoga, Iyengar Yoga, Bikram Yoga – the list goes on.

The most fitting yoga retreat for you is one where the type of yoga fits your personal style and experience.

For example, let’s say you’re looking to work yourself. You want to physically sweat, strain, push and endure your entire body-muscles, joints, ligaments, bones and all. Find a retreat that offers a vigorous Ashtanga practice.

Or say you’re seeking peace and tranquility-long restorative postures. You should look for a retreat that focuses on a form of Yin Yoga. The choices are as many as the thoughts within the mind.

Your Life, Your Retreat

With a destination and style of yoga pinned down, then it’s up to you to find out what is being offered beyond your guesthouse’s doorstep.

Check the local studios for flyers. Browse through conscientious periodicals and publications that focus on spirituality and self-improvement.

Search the Internet for retreats in specific destinations or in a certain tradition of practice.

Ask your friends. Ask the universe. Ask yourself.

A yoga retreat is a sacred offering to your body, your temple. It is time removed from the daily frivolities of “making-a-living.” It is time to honor and embrace who you are; in order to develop the mind, body and soul and move closer to a state of relaxation and peace.

In essence, yoga is learning how to accept and love oneself whole-heartedly and unconditionally.

Practice your yoga practice. Observe your breath and welcome all sensations of the body. Let the mind go and visualize your perfect yoga retreat – then go out and find it.

Additional Resources:

• Yoga Nidra, Vinyasa, & Flow Yoga by Laura DeFreitas
• 2008 Yoga Retreat & Festival Season in Bali
• The Yoga Journal

One hundred miles into my two-hundred mile journey, I was seriously considering calling it quits.

I was tired and sore, and I had blisters on every single one of my toes. Even the thought of putting my pack on again in the morning filled me with dread.

What would be so bad, I thought, about hopping on a bus at the next town? Putting myself out of this misery?

I was hiking a portion of the Camino de Santiago, a path across the north of Spain from the French border to Santiago de Compostela, where St. James the Apostle is supposedly buried.

Although I am not religious, I have always loved the idea of a pilgrimage: the singularity of purpose, the inevitable hardship and triumph over adversity, the camaraderie with other pilgrims.

And the fact that you get to call yourself a pilgrim.

Over the past millennium, thousands of people, from all over Europe and all over the world, have made the pilgrimage to Santiago. Halfway through my journey, I wasn’t sure I would be able to count myself among them.

What follows are a few lessons I learned about travel and life during my journey to Santiago.

1. Be Kind To Your Feet

The number one piece of advice I can give about taking any kind of backpacking trip is to buy good shoes.

I walked in a pair of too-small boots that I hadn’t used since high school, and although I lived to tell about it, there were times when I thought I might come back missing a toe or two.

I spent an entire day of my trip thinking only about how to describe the terrible pain – and finally came up with this: With each step, I felt like my little toes were being passed through a meat grinder.

I’m no gear head, but I will never again mess around with inadequate footwear.

It also doesn’t hurt to be prepared with a basic first aid kit just in case. On any backpacking trip, I carry medical tape to cover any spots that are rubbing (some people prefer duct tape, believe it or not), mole skin for padding, and baby powder to keep my feet dry, which also helps to stop rubbing.

As for other types of gear, there isn’t a lot that is necessary. Which brings me to my second point.

2. Travel Light

I started out with what I thought was a pretty light load, but the longer I hiked, the more I realized what I didn’t need, and how every ounce makes a difference when you’re schlepping it on your back.

Halfway through my walk, I ended up sending myself a 5 pound package general delivery to Santiago for pick-up at the end of the trip. I ended up with the following in my backpack:

• One outfit for the daytime
• one outfit for the night
• one extra pair of underwear
• basic toiletries and first aid supplies
• sunscreen, soap for washing my self and my clothes, foot care items
• water bottles
• a sleeping bag
• and a journal

That’s it.

While I was hiking, I met a man who was carrying absolutely nothing. He had one outfit that he wore day and night, and it included a large piece of fabric that he used as both a garment and a sheet. One of the most amazing things about backpacking is realizing how little it takes be happy and content.

3. Be Open To The Journey And To Other Travelers

Whether or not you set out with a religious or spiritual intention, traveling by foot can be a deeply spiritual act.

Unfortunately, it is all too common for travelers to get caught up in competition for spaces in the nicest guest houses, to obsess over how far they are able to travel in a day, to put too much emphasis on the destination without taking the time to appreciate the journey, one of the best parts of which is meeting other people.

Especially during difficult times, I found how nice it was to have other people to rely on for comfort. I also found that if I were open to it and willing to listen, people said exactly what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it.

4. Go Easy On Yourself

Part of what makes travel meaningful is dealing with difficulty. Of course, it’s easy to get discouraged, to get frustrated, and to blame ourselves for everything we have failed to do right.

Ultimately, though, what would a pilgrimage be without trials?

What’s really important is to deal with what comes up as it arises. Even the most prepared pilgrim can’t plan for everything.

One Foot In Front Of The Other

Of course, I didn’t have the benefit of this advice before I started my pilgrimage, and nursing my blisters halfway through, I really did think about quitting.

After a hot meal and half a bottle of wine (that’s how they do it in Spain, you know), I was feeling a bit more optimistic. At least, I thought, I can make it through one more day.

I continued until one morning, miraculously, my feet didn’t hurt any more. My blisters had hardened into thick calluses. By the time I made it to Santiago, I was even a little disappointed not to be able to look forward to walking again the next day.

Although I wouldn’t trade my experience on the Camino for anything, I am certain that the next time I take a pilgrimage (or even go on a weekend trip), I will be better prepared.

Inspired by the Camino de Santiago? Thinking about doing the pilgrimage yourself? Check out Walking the Camino de Santiago, a feature article in Matador’s Traverse magazine.

Laurie Pickard is a lifelong lover of travel and learning. She grew up in suburban St. Louis and currently lives in Philadelphia, where she is working on a master’s degree in geography. Laurie is passionate about languages, cultures, people, and places. She is currently planning her next trip, which will be to South America in fall 2008.

The last 16 months of my life have been spent wandering.

After graduating from college, like many of my peers I had no real clue as to what to do with my life. I did what anyone with an insatiable travel bug would do and took off to an exotic destination to teach English.

The exotic destination quickly turned into a mundane daily rhythm that was full of obstacles, frustrations and existential questions. At the end of my contract, the travel-bug and existential questions were still there. I kept traveling.

I struggled to define myself. Was I a vagabond? An unemployed 20-something with no future?

Some people made me feel like I needed to define a goal for myself, so that all this traveling and wandering would lead to something concrete. In trying to quell their concerns, I realized that I really didn’t have an answer about my goals.

Three continents, several undeveloped rolls of film and one minor leg burn later, I’ve learned that what I was doing all of this time was defining myself as a human being; in finding my niche as a traveler I was learning how I wanted to live.

Now, as I try to establish a normal routine in my home country, I hold onto lessons from the road. They are my support system, reminding me of who I am and where I have been.

Here are 4 of the most important life lessons I learned while traveling.

1. Focus on the “now”

When the path ahead of us is unclear, it’s easy to question what we are doing with our lives. Western society teaches us that we should go to school and get on a career path.

But some of us want some time off in between school and careers. Yes, we all want great jobs where we feel good about the work we do, but some of us want to postpone, and in some cases escape, the 9-5 lifestyle.

For those of us destined to walk down this path, it’s inevitable that others will ask questions:

• “So what exactly are you doing on this trip?”
• “What do you expect to do when you get back?”
• “Don’t you have a five year plan?”

These are all questions that you do not need to have an answer to – remember that it’s OK to just travel for the sake of travel.

There is plenty of time in life to follow schedules and make five year plans, but traveling is about taking a breather from high intensity, stressful society and relearning how to focus on the present. This teaches you to deal with life on a day to day basis.

2. Embrace the ordinary

Being open to possibility is the only thing that allows us to move forward. Often we find that the reality of travel is very different from our dreams. Yet without those illusions about the traveling lifestyle, we may never have had the courage to hit the road in the first place.

Talk to anyone who has studied, traveled or worked abroad and they will tell you about the difference between glamorous expectations and normal everyday routines.

When we travel for extended periods of time we see that not everything is as exotic first thought. Television ads in a foreign country may seem weird as long as we hear them in that foreign language, but as soon as we get a sense of the language, the ads seem as absurd as anything at home.

Long-term travel is not about constantly seeking the extraordinary, but coming to terms with the ordinary itself. It’s about learning to appreciate the simpler moments that everyday life offers.

3. Push your comfort levels

Traveling is about breaking out of our own personal boundaries. No matter the length of time, be it one week or a whole year, just being in a new place forces us to push ourselves.

We are obliged to memorize a string of strange sounding words just to order a simple coffee, master new public transportation systems, learn how to use unfamiliar toilets and ask for directions by way of body language, pictures and the common language of laughter.

In new places we want to be able to handle the situation, and so we force ourselves to learn.

Returning home after a trip often seems boring compared to our recent experiences; because in a new place we are constantly succeeding in conquering new situations. Recreating that feeling is therefore a matter of finding situations that push us as human beings, be it with a job, seeking knowledge or in our personal relationships.

4. Stay flexible

If travel teaches us anything at all, it’s that an itinerary can change at the drop of a hat. Buses break down, hurricanes roll in and travelers get sick.

Being a good traveler means always having a backup plan or being ready to think of one. My difficulty with the five year plan was because I am always ready to do something different.

In our travels we can never predict the future, and the same holds true for our “regular” lives back at home. Staying flexible allows us to achieve what we truly believe in even if that means sailing off course.

It allows us to push our boundaries and move beyond what we, and others, think is possible.

What life lessons have you learned through travel? Please contribute to the discussion by leaving a comment below!

Anna Brones has a love of culture, foreign languages and good food. When she is not on an adventure she spends quality time in her native Pacific Northwest. Her writing has appeared in Transitions Abroad, A Woman’s World Again and Matador Travel. Her personal travel writing endeavors can be found at Intercrossings.

A wise Indian man once said to me, “Perfection is a rare and sporadic event.” For travelers especially, this rings true.

From a traveler’s perspective, every foreign country is a chance for something to go ridiculously, horribly amok.

For example, in Southwest China, where I began my career as a teacher, nothing seemed to work – not traffic, nor washing machines, bank machines, or even the rhythms of night or day.

Even at 3 in the morning someone was always putting up a building or knocking one down, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of karaoke tunes and firecrackers.

I felt like I might die of sleep deprivation, but the constant noise didn’t appear to ruffle the majority of celebratory, happy-go-lucky, ever-industrious Chinese folk.

In Thailand, no matter how dysfunctional things got – whether it be rampant sex tourism, a heat wave, a flood, or a staff of misbehaving English instructors, the general Thai reaction was always “mai pen rai”, or in English, simply, “don’t worry about it.”

As Murphy’s Law states, “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” The Thais seemed to feel that the best way to deal with adversity was simply to shrug, smile and carry on.

Stop, Chat, Have Some Tea

Here in India, my biggest complaint is that by Western standards nothing seems to happen quickly. My oh my, how serene Asia seems to be, and how pent up and frustrated are the Westerners!

Indian time to Westerner seems to move at the pace of a clogged coffee machine, gurgling its way to the eventual finish line. Small tasks, such as picking up some fruit at the market or getting a shirt dry-cleaned, take what feels like ten light-years to accomplish.

One reason for this slow pace is the fact that absolutely everyone wants to talk to you: neighbors, friends, acquaintances, and curious locals alike. Talking, in this culture of relaxed extroverts, is an urgent and important matter.

People of all sorts stop you in the street and ask you about your day. They want to know what you are doing, where you are going, what you bought, and whether or not you want to come over for coffee, attend a wedding in Nepal, go ballroom dancing, or just sit in the sun.

As a recovering Type A personality and privacy-obsessed Westerner, for whom everything must be done with great efficiency and individual discretion, this is a difficult situation to accept.

Yet, in its loud, arthritic movements, India is teaching me to appreciate the divine. The divine, unlike perfection, is not so rare or sporadic.

Divinity In Humanity

Divinity is to be in the moment, to see the big picture, to lay back and feel the gloriousness of our daily interactions with people and nature, to ponder the connection of all things and find a place for one’s self within the mystery.

Divinity is simply love for one’s life, for another’s, or for the miraculousness in which the world works, in whatever haphazard way.

I appreciate Indian people in that they are able to more successfully balance “to do” lists with the nurturing of family, friends, and community, in a way that most Westerners can not.

While it is ridiculous to reinforce the cliché that “the East” is somehow inherently “calmer” and “more friendly” or “more spiritual” than the West, or that we are somehow very “different” from each other, certainly there are some variances in cultural values, social approaches and priorities.

When East meets West, the two cultures collide with the force of the Big Bang, and a new world is created. Indians like to know their neighbors, and Westerners like to put up fences. Part of this difference is due to simple demographics, but the overarching fact is that Asian people value relationships in a different way than people in my homeland.

The Purpose Of Life

Relationships within the community, in India, are close to the central purpose of life. In fact, they are the essence of existence, and thus, the essence of the divine.

Here, it is incomprehensible to ignore those around you. It would be like rejecting the possibility of a valued friendship or social connection.

Back home in Canada, we are slower to warm up to others. It’s not that we don’t like friends or neighbors, but that we wish to perform our social interactions on a more individualized level.

At the same time, we have also produced a culture of fear with respect to those we do not know, and our way of dealing with that fear is, unfortunately, contrary to our divine human nature. Fear can prevent us from building alliances of care and love.

If we live next door to a criminal, or someone who instills in us a sense of danger, that is seen as that person’s individual problem. At no point do we act as a community to help this person improve the quality of their life, and therefore, our own.

The offending person is seen as the responsibility of a psychiatrist, the government, or their friends or family, if they are lucky enough to have them.

It Takes A Village

In Asia, people and their problems are seen as things which can be worked through via the community. To be isolated from one’s friends and family is seen as a great tragedy, and a failure of our human potential to maintain important relationships.

I have noticed that even when things go wrong in Asia, problems are mostly taken in stride. People and relationships are not expected to be perfect, but they are expected to be amicable.

This is the lesson that “East” can teach the “West” if we are willing to listen. “The West” has made more progress in nurturing the individual psyche and bill of rights, but it has yet to integrate this respect for individuals within the undeniable whole.

I have now learned that if someone wants to stop us in the street to know our name (or even our personal business), then let them – it might slow us down, but in the long run, it will speed us up in creating the kind of world we want to live in.

Taking The Time To Foster Humanity

Knowing ourselves and our communities, and seeing them in unison, is the first step in fostering humanity, and thus, the divine world spirit.

While the world is full of disaster and grief, it is also full of beauty. Fear, isolation, and rigidity serve no one, and in the midst of chaos, two heads (or 8 billion) are better than one.

Why not allow our international world to simmer with the warmth of our combined strengths?

Instead of trying to convince ourselves that “East” and “West” are as far apart in ideology as they are in geography, we would do better to drop the cultural insecurity and embark on the journey of understanding together.

There is no divide between “East” and “West” except the one we create for ourselves. Our international world is not an excuse to promote ideas of perceived “cultural purity”, but rather an opportunity to know more and share the wonder of divinity together. For both hemispheres, this is a lesson to grow on.

With the goal of divinity, our world might never be perfect, but at least it will be united.

Your thoughts are welcome. Please leave a comment below!

Emily Hansen is a travel writer and teacher based in Shimla, India, where she is working on a book about her experiences as an expat. Her native land is Canada, and she has traveled to over 30 countries, and has lived in six, including Germany, China, Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, and now, India.

“Tourist.”

It hung heavy on the air, swollen with contempt. It wasn’t a bad word, at least as far as I knew. Yet here it was, shoved against the scene just occurred.

My buddy Joshua and I were standing in a slight line at a kiosk. The man in front of us was trying to buy a pack of batteries with a crisp twenty-dollar bill. Normally there’d be nothing to forgive in this. The problem was that we were in Rome.

“I’m sorry, signore,” said the woman behind the counter, “I cannot take this money. Only lire.”

Sir was not used to hearing no for an answer. “What’s wrong with my money?”

“The money is good, but only lire, signore.”

Checkmate. Quivering with fury, he slammed the batteries down on the counter. “Well… you… can take those batteries… and shove them up your ass!” Spinning on his loafered heel, he stormed away to another kiosk, his white shorts blazing in resentment.

The woman said nothing, sighing in disgust; it was Joshua who labeled him a tourist. A Melbourne native studying art in Florence, he spoke enough Italian to capture our regret for the man’s behavior.

She replied that it was common and she was used to it. All three of us wanted to put it behind, but it was most difficult for Joshua and me.

Aren’t We All Tourists?

I wish I knew enough Italian to say something as elegantly as my friend – something to erase the embarrassment of being unconsciously tied to such a lame display. The last thing I wanted was to be associated with such ignorance as we’d just seen.

Joshua and I were travelers – not like him. Not tourists.

Funny, though. I’d always thought of myself as a tourist, but it was only then I began to see differences between tourists. I knew of the Ugly American (being an American), but surely novices from any country run equal risk of looking stupid.

“Stay in Europe long enough,” said Joshua later, “you’ll come back with a Dumb Tourist story. Everyone has one. It’s just a matter of time.”

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“If I had to pick…” he mused for a moment, “it might be the college students who told me my English was very good, ‘even though I’m Australian.’” The last few words he delivered with a heavier bush accent.

I winced. “Wow. Where were they from?”

“Don’t ask.”

I wondered if Joshua commented on my mistakes when I wasn’t around. Granted, some people seem to wallow in their ignorance abroad, but when do you make the jump to the other side of the continuum?

What Is a Tourist?

Writer and inveterate traveler Paul Fussell wrote on the explorer-traveler-tourist distinction in his 1980 book Abroad: British Literary Traveling between the Wars.

Since exploration is a significantly rare and deeper investment than casual travel, the emphasis today is placed on travel and tourism – in other words, the difference between inner and outer-directed experience.

In essence, tourism is an experience that’s catered to, the exotic locale witnessed from a safe distance.

On arrival, the tourist is guided to the most obvious spectacles as the sole object of the journey. Because the stereotyped experience is deemed the primary importance, the “foreign” culture is considered an oddity, a nuisance at worst.

The tourist is seen as making little or no attempt to delve into anything beyond their guide book.

Fussell lamented the disappearance of “true” travel, which he saw as being increasingly absorbed by tourism. To him, travel was in all aspects a matter of direct contact with transformative experience.

In his day, the mystery of distant places was preserved by the simple fact that they were still remote. In the early 1900s, travel was shaped by scarcity of air flight (not to mention landing strips), a lack of formalities between countries, and the absence of information needed to span cultures.

Today, thanks to television, movies, color photos and other sources, everyone has an idea of what a mountain looks like: the awe of Kilimanjaro is bled away, the Grand Canyon demystified by the saturated media.

To Fussell, travel is a pursuit steadily drained by excess comfort and modern amenities.

Travel Today

As the human frontier expands, the outlandish is harder to come by.

Travel in the Age of Communication has evolved into an adventure of interpersonal discovery. Yet because tourists and traveler now bump elbows in the same settings, the distinction between the two turns into a question of how the journey is pursued.

As a result, the depth of the experience is judged less by its own merits but by other criteria.

The irony is that “travelers” begin to define themselves against the habits of “tourists” – by external indicators rather than internal. Travel is judged by “how meager the lodgings” or “how low the budget,” rather than a personal navigation of the transformative experience.

Many backpackers feel travel is only about “keeping it real” – if you’re paying for clean clothes, three meals and a roof, you’re somehow missing the point.

Likewise, some consider travel a luxury of wealth. While the tourist only lacks insight, this class disparages the budget traveler who’s excluded from “the finer things.”

Travel becomes an arrogant show of financial success over the peasant backpacker – and again, the point is lost.

The Fallacy of the Anti-Tourist

Fussell commented on the anti-tourist, one whose angst of being “just another tourist” propels a forced consciousness.

Anti-tourists wear the garb and eat the food, but fall well short of “going native” because they’re so fixated on their appearance as tourists. They’re culture chameleons – adopting the trendier fashions of their hosts and shedding them on leaving.

But can this definition not extend to the anti-travelers, who consciously avoid the dialogue around them to be of the “experiential elite”?

Travel becomes tourism when focus shifts from the experience itself to the vehicle of experience. In this sense, the snob becomes as much a tourist as the novice, because both are shut off from the wider sense of the dialogue.

Neither privation nor unlimited funds guarantee the Moment, any more than simply going abroad versus staying home. Frequent fliers may be more familiar with a place, but thumbing their noses at the newbies speaks more to their own insecurities – and, paradoxically, how poorly-traveled they are.

What grants authentic discovery is opening your awareness.

Travel Tomorrow

The whole point of travel is to pursue the meaning behind the milieu: to discover oneself in the mirror of the Other.

Travel isn’t dictated by fad or tradition, but by curiosity. It is internally directed. Fixation on the role or material affairs only distracts from issues of real importance.

We are all tourists. We learn by doing. Our knowledge comes by the fine art of making our screw-ups something beautiful. And unless you’re willing to go down roads unfamiliar to the cowards and cynics, the art never arrives.

It is upon these roads where we are made travelers.

As the Global Village becomes more neighborly, the future will belong to the fluent – the ones able to accept the unknown and welcome it.

The test of that fluency will rest in our patience: not how well we speak, but how well we listen.

Outside the limits of preference and convention await new possibilities, the “undiscovered country” of our potential. Only by asking questions do we encounter anything new; only by challenging our assumptions of the world will reveal our place within it – as one voice in a chorus.

And only by honoring differences of those around us will shed light upon the ignorance that keeps us as tourists in our own lives.

F. Daniel Harbecke (just call him Daniel, the F’s a family thing) is currently working on “A Philosophy of Travel,” which envisions travel as a metaphor for the meaningful experience of life. Daniel has lived in Europe, South America and Asia and is trying to fund his tony lifestyle in Sweet Home Chicago.

What can be a more amazing travel journey than life itself? Think about this question. It is important.

Each of us is born on this planet for a certain purpose. We all have a certain mission to realize in life.

It can be anything: creating a family, becoming a banker or spending one’s whole life on the road. The most important thing is to know: this is what you are supposed to do.

Quite often, unfortunately, many of us do not have this feeling – the feeling of wholeness, the feeling of belonging, the feeling of happiness. Instead we perform, or procrastinate or try to conform to certain rules imposed on us by society, without stopping for a second and asking ourselves: am I content? Am I doing what I really want to do?

Realizing our full potential and finding our true self is the true travel journey of life.

Not long ago, when I was yet again changing countries of residence, a friend of mine told me a very important thing:

“Ekaterina,” he said, “I know why you are moving, but never forget that whatever your destination, you always take yourself with you. Finding yourself is your true destination.”

The Road Ahead

For more than ten years my life has been that of a traveler. Even though for the majority of these ten years I had an apartment and a steady job, I was still traveling. I was traveling in my mind, I was changing countries and I was always looking for a better place, a better world.

Being born in the Soviet Union, in my first years of life I had quite a simple image of what life should be: first you become a pioneer (the first grade on the scale of communism), then a ‘comsomol’ (the second grade on the scale of communism) and finally, if you are the best, you become a communist.

My gradation stopped at the first scale, along with that simple vision of reality as soon as the political regime changed.

However, what didn’t change was the belief that in order to succeed in society one has to perform, one has to ‘graduate’. The goal was no longer a final communist grade; it became something else, but it all came down to the same gradation system the majority of us are taught to achieve – almost from the day we are born.

You have to do this, you have to become that, you have to be better and work harder than others, and you have to be like everyone else. Because of these rules, slowly but surely we tend to take a road opposite to our true destination.

A Reflection

At some point in my life I achieved my ‘communist’ grade. I was leading a life many people would find ideal.

With a title of financial analyst and portfolio manager, living in the center of Amsterdam, speaking four languages and in possession of a membership in the most prestigious sport club of the city, I had everything one can wish for in life. But in reality I had nothing at all.

I was losing myself, I was simply performing, thinking that life is about having a prestigious job, a cool apartment and a nice salary. And only my terrible stomach pains and the crying during the night were clear indicators that the ‘ideal’ life I led was actually quite miserable.

One day I decided to create my own gradation system, or to be more precise, the absence of any gradation system. I stopped performing.

First, I canceled my membership to the sport club. Second, I changed jobs, agreeing to a lower salary and a less prestigious title simply to allow myself to find my own journey. Third, I started to write.

Being in love with books all my life I always wanted to share stories, and regardless of whether I am an unpublished or published writer, writing for myself is something that gives me the best satisfaction of all.

Finally, I started to follow the signs – the signs of life, trying to see who am I, what I am doing in this life and why?

I asked myself: what do I really like to do?

Journey of Wonder

The discovery of signs led me to an important realization: Life is a journey of wonder.

If I stayed in my gradation niche I would probably never have discovered bio-dance as a perfect alternative to the gym, gentle respiration techniques to make me calm and Tarot reading as a perfect activity for spending time when I am on my own.

All this resulted in the fact that, yet again, I changed my country of residence. I moved from Amsterdam to Brussels, the city where I had gone to university and where I couldn’t stay after my studies due to my Russian citizenship at that time.

I came back to this city without a grade, with a Dutch passport and as a new person. I realized one of the most important lessons in life: whatever your nationality, profession, salary or the net amount your house costs, the only real thing in life is you.

All stories have the same line. A hero leaves his village for the discovery of the world.

His first obstacle comes when he is on the road: he has to choose his destination. His second obstacle is during the journey. He has to fight the enemies. And finally, he has the most important choice: does he continue the journey or go back to the village?

We are all heroes on the road. And the most important journey for all of us is to meet our true selves. Apart from external enemies, quite often the biggest villain lies within, and this villain in the majority of cases is our own ego. Finding our soul and realizing our true potential is where our village lies.

As Paolo Coelho once said: “Never give up on your dreams, – follow the signs.”

Ekaterina Petrovna’s current goal in life is to become a Porcupine. In the animal spirit world this animal represents rediscovery of wonder and trust in the Great spirit. She has a degree in interpreting and speaks 4 languages. In her spare time Ekaterina writes, reads Tarot cards, dances like crazy, laughs, and tries to make this world a better place to live.

Henry David Thoreau.

“I have traveled a great deal in Concord,” said Henry Thoreau, a native of…wait for it…Concord, Massachusetts.

In fact, Thoreau traveled far and wide for his day and age, vagabonding to Cape Cod and the vast wilderness of the Maine Woods. However, the great prophet of enlightened self-reliance claimed to have done most of his traveling in his own hometown.

Thoreau understood something that many of us modern day nomads would do well to recognize: travel is a matter of perspective, not location. With curiosity, an open mind and a broad horizon of free time, it’s possible to travel in your own backyard.

I’m writing in El Calafate, a tourist boomtown in Argentine Patagonia. I am, admittedly, a long way from home. But, just the same, at the moment I’m not really traveling.

I’m in the common area of a hostel – two girls from Boston are shooting pool in front of me, and it’s hard to concentrate on writing when they bend over to take a shot. Sublime is playing on the stereo…Girl, Caress Me Down…. I’m wearing Patagonia brand clothes, but I’m not really experiencing Patagonia anymore than you are.

Neither, sadly, are many of my fellow tourists here in El Calafate. Every hour, buses segregated by wealth and nationality pull up to the viewpoint overlooking the Perito Moreno glacier.

Tourists disembark – they Ooh and Ahh in their respective languages, snap a few trophy photos, nap in the bus back to the hotel and fly thousands of miles back home on airplanes that belch carbon into the sky.

Meanwhile, the famous glacier shrinks, but that’s OK – I already have my ice-climbing photo.

What Makes A Traveler?

Now, the tourist / traveler distinction has already been beaten into the ground, and I’m not so sure of its validity in the first place. But it IS clear that coming all the way to Patagonia does not make one a traveler.

So what DOES make a traveler, I wonder? How did Thoreau manage to travel in Concord when so many of my fellow tourists here in El Calafate never leave their comfort zones?

Well, Thoreau rambled. He walked the country roads and stopped to talk to anyone he met along the way. He followed fox tracks through the snow, and wondered at their meaning. He approached the fields and homesteads of Concord with an open-ended sense of curiosity.

He looked at things, and thought about them, and tried his best to place them within the context of his broad experience. He moved slowly, and he paid attention.

Into The Hills

I remember one time, back when I worked an office job.

It was a Tuesday, and after work I just couldn’t take it any longer: with nothing but the clothes on my back I set off into the hills behind my house, trekked across the coal fields and into the valley beyond. The sun started to go down, but I just kept walking.

I came upon a small stream, which I resolved to follow until it led back to civilization. The night was dark, and there was no moon. I traveled by feel, my mind wide open, my nerves on edge. Once, I stepped on a sleeping turtle – and believe me, that was a shot of adrenaline on par with a virgin view of the Mayan Temples, the Egyptian Pyramids and even Angkor Wat.

Four times I came to dams, and had to scramble around them through thick bamboo grass. When I finally emerged into a village, covered in mud and cobwebs, it was past midnight.

The next day at work I couldn’t stop grinning. I had gone on a TRIP. Beyond that, I now knew what was Out There, over the hills, and by understanding what was Out There, I had a better appreciation for home and work – the comfortable routines to which I was able to return.

My carbon footprint for the journey? Zero.

A Sense Of Wonder

The truth is, we travel every time we open our minds to a new possibility, every time we open our hearts to a new emotion, every time we take a new track, read a new book or just look at a rock and wonder how it got there.

There is comfort in routine and stability, but when we stop traveling we lose the sense of wonder that equates to joy, that carves new channels in our minds and makes us feel alive. So go. Go on. Go.

Take a notebook and a pen and a camera – see what you find. Then come back, and tell me the story.

BNT contributing editor Tim Patterson travels with a sleeping bag and pup tent strapped to the back of his folding bicycle. His articles and travel guides have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, Get Lost Magazine, Tales Of Asia and Traverse Magazine. Check out his personal site Rucksack Wanderer.

“Every joke,” according to my wife, “has an element of joke in it.” The first time I heard it, I figured she’d confused the idea. Her take on English can be quite original sometimes. “You mean, an element of truth,” I said, correcting her gently.

“No, an element of joke,” she replied, enduring me patiently.

I’ve long since come over to her side. At the base of every joke is a spring-loaded truth, a hidden reality that gives them their punch. When a truth suddenly bursts up, we laugh at the unexpected BOING it makes. After the glow of humor fades, the unmasked truth grows familiar, and the joy is now in the telling – in offering the surprise to others.

There’s an old one-liner whose element of joke burnt out long ago:

Q: Why did the mountaineer climb the mountain?
A: Because it’s there.

At first glance, there doesn’t seem much truth to look for here, and the joke is mainly on the listener in their hopes for a reasonable answer. But this is what secretly baits the hook (and coils the spring): it’s a maddening question. Why would anyone climb a mountain? Has anyone ever come up with a reason even remotely satisfying?

Taking The Risk

The man who came up with this remark didn’t find it very satisfying, either. George Mallory was a member of three expeditions attempting to scale Mount Everest; despite great danger and the loss of several companions, he and others persisted. It is unknown if he ever reached the peak; his body was found in 1999, 75 years after disappearing on the northeast ridge.

When repeatedly asked by reporters why the near-impossible assent was necessary to him, Mallory didn’t even remember giving his now famous reply, a dismissal of a question he considered foolish:

“Because it’s there.”

Most of us engage in some beloved brand of risk – but the reasons why are inexplicable. If climbing Everest seems rash mainly due to excessive risk without apparent return, then adventure itself is suspect.

You may as well ask, “Why did the traveler go to Rome during peak season?” Or even, “Why leave the house at all?” Or, “Why live, if you can be hurt?” Why bother? Why risk?

Risk isn’t comfortable. It’s difficult, exhausting, unpleasant and, in some cases, downright messy. As a financial investment, adventure ranks at the bottom of the list. Its reward has no trade value; its promise is unreliable.

For someone who doesn’t understand the need, there is no sufficient answer. Adventure can’t always be rationalized, because adventure is irrational without visible profit.

Focus On The Journey

The spirit of adventure is an exercise in curiosity beyond material gain – the real prize isn’t simply to reach the goal, but to participate in the experience.

For an adventurer, the reason for the pursuit is self-evident: there is no other way. Because it is there.

Adventure presents a gate to an experience beyond our own, something that cannot be quoted or relayed by another. It must be done to be known.

The real intent of risk is to grow – to put an adventurer in contact with their limitations to exceed them. How may I cross through the gate? What experience is there waiting? Who am I on the other side?

What conceals a joke is in taking something for granted too quickly. In this case, it’s assuming that happiness is the same as repose. When happiness is defined as “freedom from difficulty,” any effort is seen as an enemy; however small, need must be stifled or distracted to maintain this version of “happiness.”

As a result, many people spend their lives in this “pursuit of happiness” which more often resembles an “escape of comfort.”

When the product takes the place of the process, we exist merely to have instead of to live. It’s a shift from “I want something to eat” to “I want perpetual contentment – never to feel hunger again.” Seen thus, any desire is backward and unnecessary. The confusion caused by this attitude has not only led to a society of detached existence, but threatens to exhaust global resources in unrestrained consumption.

It may be that this outlook is a bigger joke than the first, but even less funny.

To Live Or To Exist

When destination takes more emphasis than the journey, it must be recognized that the destination doesn’t wholly exist.

It’s only a vista to look back upon the real source of meaning – the experience of the journey. In the same regard, happiness is a process that doesn’t reject, but rather embraces need. Though it may be at a great distance, or even a sheer vertical ascent, happiness can’t be sought for directly.

It comes as a secondary result of finding meaning in the endeavor itself. The art of adventure – of life itself – seems to rest in the mediating acts of personal expression that compose it. It’s less the arrival, more the movement within – choosing risks that best apply to who we are.

It’s a sentiment Mallory demonstrated in his own life; in an article regarding a recent Alpine climb, he asked the question, “Have we vanquished an enemy?” His answer: “None but ourselves.” This is the truth behind the joke.

I’m constantly amazed by what my wife can teach me: sometimes by way of a joke, or by what shines through prisms of culture and her own nature. I’m learning it’s much easier to simply agree with her on most things – it’s not so arduous a climb that way.

I’m finally starting to get it.

F. Daniel Harbecke (just call him Daniel, the F’s a family thing) is currently working on “A Philosophy of Travel,” which envisions travel as a metaphor for the meaningful experience of life. Daniel has lived in Europe, South America and Asia and is trying to fund his tony lifestyle in Sweet Home Chicago.

We come out of curiosity about another country’s religious traditions, or to see the incredible artistic and architectural creations, or simply to soak in that solemn, reverential vibe so strikingly absent from almost all other aspects of modern life.

And therein lies the dilemma: if enough of us stampede into holy places, won’t it be destroyed by our chit-chatting, camera-clicking presence? Well, not necessarily. Or at least, not entirely.

Here are a few reminders to help you minimize your impact – to reduce your tourist footprint – while you travel to the holy places of the world.

Before You Go

If you’re heading to a predominantly Hindu country, why not brush up on the basic tenets of the religion? I’m not suggesting that you memorize all the various deities involved, or learn to recite the Ramayana, but some basic background shouldn’t be hard to acquire.

Knowing what’s going on around you will not only enhance your experience; it will make you much less likely to spoil someone else’s visit, or worse, offend a local worshiper. And it will save you the embarrassment of showing up in Prague’s historic Jewish district on a Saturday, because you’ll already know that the synagogues are closed to the public then.

This applies not only to those “exotic” eastern religions like Daoism or Buddhism, but also to those that may be more familiar to you. Isn’t it about time you found out why the Eastern Orthodox churches broke with Rome almost a millennium ago? Or brushed up on the major points of disagreement between the Church of England and Scottish Presbyterianism?

Religious history, all too often, is not much different from political history, and it’s worth knowing a bit about it before you start your trip.

What To Wear, What Not To Wear

One thing every major religion has in common is an aversion to scantily-clad mortals in its houses of worship. For guys, shorts are almost always a no-no, and for girls, short skirts and cleavage are equally taboo.

Visible shoulders and under-arms are often frowned upon also, so regardless of your gender, always travel with at least one pair of long pants (or a long, loose-fitting skirt) and a shirt that covers at least your upper arms.

Beyond those general rules, each religion has its own strictures, whether it be a ban on leather in a Jain temple, or a woman’s hair being covered in a mosque. These specifics are normally clearly signed, and most places that require extra covering (such as a headscarf) will provide them.

Even if there is no one physically enforcing the dress code, always observe it. You are visiting by choice; if you have a personal or philosophical objection to clothing restrictions you are more than welcome to boycott the institution in question.

The Big Issue: Photography

Of course, as tourists we always want to take photos. (What’s the point of visiting a famous landmark if you can’t take a million photos to post on Facebook later, right?) Often, though, the caretakers of the church or temple you are visiting will have decided that clicking, flashing cameras – and the contortions involved in getting that perfect shot – are not suitable for a holy building.

Most often, the places that allow photography are the same places that charge admission, while those that do not allow photography allow anyone to visit for free.

Photography, along with ticket booths, can detract from the spiritual nature of a place, so in these latter cases, the caretakers are attempting to preserve the original purpose of the building even at the expense of some lost revenue. Respect their decision by treating the building as what it is – a spiritual haven for many people – and not as a made-for-tourists hotspot.

If there is no sign, don’t assume photography is allowed – ask someone. Even if it is allowed, they will appreciate your concern.

Additional charges for photography, in places that already charge for admission, may seem like a money grab. But I’ve seen these additional charges in the poorer areas of Asia or Eastern Europe – which means they add up to a few extra pennies for the average visitor. Pay up. After all, how much support do you think the government of India can really afford to give its thousands (or millions) of temples?

Leave Your Politics At Home, But Pack Your Common Sense

Got a beef with the Catholic Church because of their stance on condom use in an HIV-positive era? Fine. Write a letter, attend a rally, post a video on YouTube, but don’t take your anger out on your fellow visitors to St. Peters or the Vatican Museums.

There is a time and a place for political gestures – and frankly, just by paying admission you’re undermining any point you may be trying to make once you’re inside. Dress codes vary, photography rules come and go, but the bottom line when you are visiting these holy places is to remember that they are very, very important to some of your fellow human beings.

You may not share their faith, you may even disagree with it strongly, but if you are going to visit a house of worship the least you can do is show respect. That means not hopping the barrier to strike a faux-pious pose next to the altar. It means turning your cell phone off, and keeping your voice down while you’re admiring the artwork. It means staying in your seat if you’ve decided to save a few dollars by attending a service instead of visiting as a tourist.

Most of all, it means opening your eyes, reading the signs, asking questions, and doing your best to make your visit as unobtrusive as possible.

Eva Holland is a historical researcher and freelance writer based in Ottawa, Canada. She is a blogger for World Hum and for Rolf Potts’ Vagablogging, and her travel writing has appeared in The Ottawa Citizen, The Edmonton Journal, and Matador Travel.

Were these tips helpful? Leave a comment below!

When I author, I am relevant and topical. My vocabulary is college-approved, my message fit to modern style. My insight and I share a desk in an office – bastion against the screaming ignorance of the pop mob.

If not for me and the degree in my holster, the tone is felt, come the Visigoths.

Making his rounds for the CanWest News Service, Dan attends a lecture in Ottawa given by the Dalai Lama. Though impressed by his “septuagenarian” (good word!) ability to pack ‘em in like Hanna Montana, Gardner is let down by the lack of sophistication in the Dalai Lama’s message.

“He’s a wonderful old guy, but his words are platitudes on the level of Oprah or Deepak Chopra,” he later writes in his article Non-wisdom from the Dalai Lama

For evidence, he cites various Dalai Lama quotes:

…I believe that the purpose of life is to be happy….
…We all come from our mother’s womb. Therefore we all have the same potential for compassion….
My main commitment is the concept of a happy life… much depends on having peace of mind.

What warrants the ticket price? wonders Dan. This man is supposed to be a fount of profundity; surely he can do better than:

“The concept of war is outdated… first inner disarmament, then outer disarmament.”

Dan returns to his writing desk, locked and loaded by the non-event, fueled by the indignation of missing an episode of Heroes for such empty-headed tripe.

The Meaning of Words

It’s unfair of me to write this way. Mr. Gardner has no doubt earned his position and isn’t necessarily a fan of Heroes nor perhaps a literary cynic. He recognizes the meaning of words, though he astonishingly fails to see what meaning may issue from the person (or desk) who speaks (or writes) them.

Gardner can’t be blamed entirely – no more than my classmate in high school, when she asked the instructor what good geometry was if not used in the “real world.” It was a reasonable though regrettable question, asked about a perceived circularity. What good is geometry?

Mr. Gardner’s job is to see through hype – and in the Dalai Lama’s audience, he saw plenty. He suspects the Dalai Lama’s distinction comes from a cult of personality: “fawning audiences that treat every grunt and guffaw as a shiny pearl dropped from the heavens.”

Excessive adulation isn’t pretty, particularly if you don’t understand the value of the celebrity: why Britney, why Brangelina, why Elvis or other such mythical creatures? What good are they?

“Good” can be a relative thing. The Arabs have a saying: “All sun makes a desert” – too much light makes the baby go blind, or perhaps too many clichés, or speaking too glibly.

But imagine a child who never learns to feed himself because his mother never let him go hungry. Imagine if my classmate wasn’t permitted to ask her question. Imagine if Mr. Gardner didn’t write his myopic poesy what I’d be doing with my time.

A Man of Peace

There must be more to the Dalai Lama than being a burr to the Chinese.

For me, he’s a defender of an endangered, spiritual culture whose homeland was taken by despotism. For me, he’s a man of peace who reaches across borders of nation, politic, religion and status. For me, he’s an imperfect man whose ideas are welcome against the constant blare of aggression and suffering. But this is what I bring with me.

If I demand brilliance or the kiss of destiny every time I break open a fortune cookie, I’d soon hate chow mein. How can I explain to someone why I still bother to read them, if they don’t understand how I value them?

Every experience is prefaced by one’s expectations. The difference between a traveler and one who travels: travelers know travel has nothing to do with where you go, but with how you go.

You can go to Paris and see nothing, if you assume Paris is only a matter of going to Paris. I can go to a party, yet have a miserable time; or be surrounded by wealth and accomplishment and resent every bit of it. The art is to find vehicles for your expression – limiting yourself to inflexible demands will prevent you from ever achieving fluency.

Active or Passive

I wonder how many languages Mr. Gardner is able to communicate his ideas in, how verbose he and his thesaurus must be to express basic truths for pursuing contentment. I wonder if I myself overlook more delicate messages because they don’t make for good television in my culture.

Back to Britney. Her music isn’t for me. I base this on what I expect it to be; I’m free to do so. Am I wrong? Are her fans? Are they wrong because they like it, or am I wrong for expecting it to be more than it is? Is there, in truth, no gustibus for disputandum?

The Dalai Lama. I don’t demand that everything he says to be meaningful. I don’t consider his every thought a revelation, for he isn’t talking to me alone. Most importantly, where I differ with Mr. Gardner: I don’t believe his words banal because his role is so extraordinary.

I value his words not for their depth but precisely for their simplicity. I’m not interested in being overwhelmed, but invited.

Mr. Gardner expected the Dalai Lama’s lecture to change him and was disappointed.

His experience was passive: he arrived, but went no further. In our entertainment culture, we expect to be carried. It’s no surprise that Gardner confuses simplicity with simplistic, because he only went halfway. He merely attended.

The Most Important Truths

Beyond trite everyday existence is an underlying beauty of commonality, seen only by shedding trade values and recognizing inner meaning.

The most important truths are stripped of their gloss and prose. They’re not always clever, nor worthless for not being clever; they aren’t always fashionable or weighty or erudite.

Their value rests somewhere else, for words find definition in the dictionary, Mr. Gardner – they find meaning in the people who use them.

Every so often, Virginia again wonders aloud if there’s a Santa Claus. With luck, there’s a geometry teacher nearby with an answer why the “real” world is made so much broader by the power to make more of it “real.”

I once met a man who held a door open for me, and I thanked him. He replied, “In Tibet, we believe a word of thanks is a kind of prayer.”

I thought this a lovely sentiment. Not so deep, but lovely.

F. Daniel Harbecke (just call him Daniel, the F’s a family thing) is currently working on “A Philosophy of Travel,” which envisions travel as a metaphor for the meaningful experience of life. Daniel has lived in Europe, South America and Asia and is trying to fund his tony lifestyle in Sweet Home Chicago.

Do you dream of traveling to far away places, but never actually plan that trip because you think you can’t afford it?

What if I told you there’s a technique that will allow you to attain your journey?

I married young and established a “middle-class” family similar to the one I grew up in. We never flew anywhere – just too expensive.

I never harbored anything more than a fanciful wish to go to Europe. (That was something only rich people could do).

Years later, I had divorced and remarried. My new husband started talking about going to England.

I had a small IRA from a previous job that had grown to around $5,000. I earmarked the amount as our travel fund and began to think that we might actually make the trip if we used that money.

For the first time, I started to really dream, plan, and visualize.

The Trip Becomes Reality

In May of 1999 we finally spent two wonderful weeks in England and had a fabulous time. Somehow, we never touched that IRA account and didn’t put anything on a credit card that wasn’t paid in full when billed.

Since then, we’ve been back to England twice and last year went to Italy for 2 weeks. We have experienced a couple of Caribbean cruises as well, interspersed with many trips throughout the U.S. How did we do it?

The reason for this marvelous travel is the Law of Attraction. This law is as real and immutable as the Law of Gravity.

You may have read or heard statements like, “you create your own reality” or “thoughts are things”.

You see, we are all marvelous creators. We create our own lives through our thoughts and emotions, even when we aren’t aware of it.

Mike Dooley of Totally Unique Thoughts always ends his daily inspirational emails called “Notes From The Universe” with the phrase, “thoughts become things….. choose the good ones”.

There are 3 steps to achieving your dreams:

• 1. Ask (your job)
• 2. Answer (The Universe’s job)
• 3. Receive (your job)

Here’s how it works: Whether you are aware of it or not, you are “asking” all the time. Every time you think about something you would like to have, do or be, the Universe receives this thought as a request.

The second step – the answer – is handled automatically by the Universe. Here’s the kicker: the Universe never says “no”. Every request is granted.

However, the part that gives a lot of us some trouble is the third step – receiving or letting in our desires. If you’re in a negative place, you block the receiving of your request.

Practice Awareness

The first step in learning to consciously apply the Law of Attraction is to monitor your emotions.

Rather than the onerous task of trying to watch your every thought, just notice how you feel. If you’re feeling good, you are “allowing” – you’re in a receiving mode.

But if you notice that you’re feeling a little off, or maybe in a bad mood, try to reach for a better thought – even just a little better – and you should feel your emotions respond positively.

Other ways to put yourself into a receiving mode might be to take just a few moments for simple meditation – or pet your cat or dog – or play with a child.

The second step is to break the bad habit that has been imposed upon us by this time/space continuum we’ve chosen to enter – forget about the “HOW’S”. Just set your intention, try to stay in a happy place and let the Universe handle the details.

You’ll soon find all sorts of wonderful ideas, opportunities and serendipitous coincidences coming your way. Easier said than done…but with a little attention to our thoughts, we can break negative habits.

Even though I am retired and my husband is only a year or two from retirement, I know that we will continue to travel and do things that logic or common sense would tell us we can’t possibly afford to do.

I’m not worrying about how we’re going to do this on a fixed income – I just know that it will come to pass. You see, the secret is to just ask and then get out of the way.

Just believe and when doubts or worries threaten to creep in, replace those thoughts with thoughts that feel better.

The Final Coincidence

To give you one more example, when we went to Boston with friends last April, we stayed in a very nice 2-bedroom loft, ate in many fine restaurants and even went on a whale watch up on the Cape.

When I found myself worrying about the amount we were spending, I just told myself, “there’s always enough”. When we got home, the credit card tickets totaled around $1800 – and that didn’t even include the lodging and airfare that had been paid before we left.

The next day, we had a letter from our mortgage company saying our escrow account had an overage. Enclosed was a check for $1889.

Ready to try it? Be prepared for miracles. If you’re new to this concept, go to The Secret.

After you’ve watched the video, pick up a copy of Ask and It Is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks. What can you lose?

You’ll be surprised by the wonderful things, places, people or coincidences you can attract.

Editor’s note: For alternative perspectives on The Law of Attraction visit articles on Alternet and Salon.

Chestelle Samford lives in beautiful Austin, TX and has 3 grown children and one granddaughter. Retired over a year now, Chestelle was previously a computer trainer in the mortgage industry. She has previously published articles in the Austin American Statesman and a short “True Story” in Budget Travel.

I lean back in my armchair and contemplate this important inquiry that I am so often confronted with since returning back home to the US after a long journey.

Trying to come up with a coherent response to this seemingly overwhelming and complex question, my head drifts back, eyes shut, and I think back to the past eight months on the road.

All that comes to my mind is a slide-show of warm and welcoming faces from the innumerable wonderful friends that I’ve had the pleasure to cross paths with on the trip.

Many differences are quickly apparent among this unceasing stream of people: different beliefs and customs, different languages, different forms of self-expression, different temperaments and personalities.

I could go on and on, listing off the dissimilarities, but in sum, all of the differences are trumped by a unifying commonality: humanity.

A Teacher In Every Face

Going back to our original conundrum, “What has traveling taught me?”

Through traveling and coming into contact with so many different types of people, I now better understand how similar, in fact, we all are.

Through traveling, I have learned that we are all different peas stemming from the same pod, often with similar hang-ups, aspirations, fears and desires.

Traveling has taught me to expand that circle of brotherhood, encapsulating not just immediate family and friends, not just the members of our town or the citizenry of US or Europe for that matter, but rather all of humanity.

In short, traveling has taught me to be human.

The failure to grasp this simple notion-treating others as human beings-is at the heart of much misunderstanding, aggression, and strife that has plagued humanity throughout time.

Traveling has also taught me to not take life too seriously, but at the same time stand back mouth ajar and awe-stricken by its miraculousness.

Most of all, traveling has taught me to seize every waking moment as an opportunity-an opportunity to learn, to grow, and most of all, to live.

Adrift in the Universe

By no means am I saying that traveling is a pre-requisite to the understanding of these traveler credos that I’ve put forth. Like the writer Dagobert D. Runes once said

“People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, the kind of people they ignore at home.”

Traveling with an inquisitive and open mind does facilitate this process and fosters its development.

Many of us live in a society, the US, where only around 10% of us have passports, and due to a lack of intercultural understanding, have dangerous isolationist and non-cooperative views of the world.

This is obviously an important topic, but a more central message for me is to generate an interest in decisive action.

If that decision towards action comes to fruition in deciding to quit your job or stop doing whatever you’re doing to make that extended traveling trip that you’ve always dreamed of, then power to you.

But that’s just a tiny example of a much broader theme in taking command of the life that we live.

Invisible Bars

To me, it seems as though so many people live lives of mediocrity, burdened by an overhanging fear of failure preventing us from taking action to better position ourselves for the life that we desire.

The mighty ‘f’ word-failure-plagues us, leaving us in a paralyzed ‘what if’ mindset, questioning our past decisions-or better yet lack of-and striving for certitude in our existences.

This deep-seeded fear of failure is a direct impediment to interpersonal growth and is one of the main reasons that as a species we’re so terrified of change and uncertainty.

But if we really grasp the truism that failure is a mental construct-an internal representation of the world around us in that we create-and in reality there are just outcomes in which we can always learn something, then what’s stopping us from leaving in the dust this life of mediocrity and achieving greatness?

We have all the tools to forge greatness in each of our lives, however you may decide to define it.

The problem lies in our obliviousness to the enormity of our potential power: specifically the grave misunderstanding of the procession of change which is at the heart of this human plight.

Free Your World View

The human mind has a lot of difficulty grappling with the inherent non-linear and asymmetric nature of change, and as such we are often fooled into thinking that the energy involved in invoking change should be roughly equal with that of the outputs or its effects.

This view of change, besides simply being incorrect, also fosters a mentality of complacency and passiveness in action, as well as creating a nihilistic view of the world in which we are all just powerless and static beings.

Fact of the matter is we are not creatures living in isolated vacuums, often tiny inputs inevitably will have huge far-reaching effects, and our actions do have an immediate impact not only on our lives but throughout our intricately webbed world and its history.

Change often begets more change, and the mere decision to act reflexively changes us thereby further affecting the outcome.

Now understanding this concept of change, the decision that confronts us is not whether or not we want to change the world-we inevitably are and will just by living in it and acting-we rather must decide on the magnitude and direction of our effect.

A Personal Experience

Here’s a personal example highlighting the far-reaching implications of decisive action in creating change.

About four years ago or so, I decided for whatever reason to stop watching TV and to start reading everything that I felt would give me a better understanding of the world and would aid in making me a more evolved person.

The direct cause of this decision I can’t recall, but obviously something triggered it, pushing me over that proverbial tipping point towards action.

Anyway, this decision was a pretty big commitment for me, because only a few years before that, in the middle of my sophomore year in college, I had just finished reading my very first proper book from front to back.

Fast forward to today, where I’ve embraced a philosophy of change and its conduciveness towards growth.

My decisions to go to graduate school in Spain, to head off into my travels through Asia; all these actions are manifestations of a philosophy that I have come to understand through the synthesis of ideas put forth by other writers interacting with my ever-changing experiences.

That decision made four years ago set my life on a completely different trajectory.

Additionally, the life trajectories of many of the people that I’ve encountered throughout the past few years have all been altered to some degree all as a direct result of that one decision that I made four years ago.

These same people will alter the life trajectories of many others indirectly through me, and those others affecting more and more others, and so on ad infinitum.

The Ripple Effect

The point of this little anecdote is not to soothe any megalomaniac desires on my part, but rather to show the extraordinary effect we can, and often inevitably will have, on ourselves, our immediate surroundings, and even the entirety of the world, through our decisive actions.

At any given time we can choose whether to be active or passive players in this game of life; we can choose how and how much of an effect we will have.

We can choose the immortal imprints that we leave upon this world.

The first step is the decision to take action and the direction that you would like to head; the rest is all just a continual re-writing of the history books.

Through our actions, specifically actions through ideas, we can reach the plains of immortality.

In a similar spirit, hopefully some of the ideas that I talk about, ideas which where borne from countless other thinkers’ ideas, may act as that same trigger towards positive action in some of your lives and might continue living onwards.

A version of this article was originally published here. Reprinted with permission.

Tim Witting details his wanderings around the world on his blog Tim’s Nomad Diaries.

During the ninth month of the Muslim calender, falling between mid September to mid October, Ramadan is a time where Muslim followers around the world abstain from all food and drink (including water) each day while the sun is up, for an entire month.

As I understand, Ramadan is about focusing less on the daily rigors of everyday life, and more on what matters the most: God.

It is about the realization that we are all on this planet together, with some more fortunate than others. The aim of Ramadan is to experience suffering, like so many people are forced to live through, and to understand that we are no better than anyone else. All of us are same in God’s eyes.

While in Shenzen, China, I fasted with the some Muslim friends for one full day, but the idea stayed with me longer than the 24 hours. It was something I wanted to do again in the future, when the time was right.

As it turns out, being stuck in the middle of Hanoi, Vietnam with just a few dollars in your pocket is just such a time.

My fasting guidelines were basic: for one full week, I would not consume any means of nourishment, with the exclusion of water, until after sunset, at which time I would have a moderate dinner.

The motivation behind my decision to fast was quite different from that of Ramadan: not religious, but spiritual – of a practical, hell, even selfish nature, rooted in self-development and obtaining a greater appreciation for life and all that comes with it.

The River Or The Cork

To understand this link between fasting, or any form of self-deprivation, with a heightened sense of appreciation of life, I first must give the reader a little background.

Pretend for a moment that you are the ‘average’ Westerner, and I showed you a photograph of yourself when you were five years old. I then ask you who the person is in the photo, and you respond “Oh, that’s me.”

But, how could that small child be the same person as the adult that I am showing the picture to? And surely you behave and think differently from that child as well, right? You respond, “Yes, but that was me.”

Most of us have this idea that we are separate and distinct beings independent from our surroundings. Even the word ‘Self’ literally means other.

We think in terms of ‘I’s and ‘You’s and ‘We’s like we are static creatures in an ever moving and changing world, like a cork floating down a river of time. Our surroundings might be continually changing, you say, but there is something distinct and unwaivering about who you are that remains the same.

This view that most of us hold, that of a static ’self’, is inherently and deeply flawed.

Think about it for a moment. From a purely physical standpoint, we are changing every nanosecond, with old cells dying and new ones being reborn; our physical composition, much like our surroundings, is in a continual state of flux.

In addition to our dynamic chemical and physical make-up, our beliefs about the world, our thoughts and perceptions, are also always changing.

Surely you don’t have the exact same mentality and views as you had when you where a child, but you also don’t have the exact same mentality and views as you had last year, or even a few moments ago before reading this article.

The Limitations of Language

Instead of the flawed view of the ’self’ as static beings, I prefer to think of people as dynamic, in a constant state of flux. A person at any point in time is the product of a complex function of different variables interacting, some of which are constantly changing, thereby creating a new ‘you’ every moment.

The function is essentially just the interplay between our genetic code, which is fixed, and our experiences, which is changing by the moment. Since one of the variables making up our ’self’ is in a constant state of change, our ’self’ must also be constantly changing.

As such, whenever I refer to ‘myself’ or someone ‘else’, I mentally put quotations around the ‘I’ or ‘you’ or ‘we’, because by defining ourselves through language, we convey a distorted view of reality.

In addition to our dynamic nature, we can also see that we are fooling ourselves into thinking that we are separate and independent entities from the rest of the world.

Since who we are at any point in time is largely predicated by our experiences and surroundings, we only exist in relation to all the other constantly changing things in the world.

Going back to our cork in the river analogy, we can see how this is flawed because we are also constantly changing and interconnected with the river. Rather, we are the river.

On Cultivating Compassion

This view of the world I find to be extremely powerful and intellectually satisfying. Since we are constantly changing, there is no need to have regrets-only learn from them.

Since people are the product of their past experiences, as well as other factors out of their control, it teaches us compassion towards our fellow humans.

If every moment that passes us is an experience, and every experience is an opportunity towards self-development and improvement, what’s the point of doing anything that isn’t advantageous to our environment and ourselves (i.e. watching mindless television, unnecessary complaining, creating negative energy etc.), and thereby towards our future ‘me’?

Since we have control of our future experiences, but not of our past ones, what’s the point of not focusing on this very moment?

This perspective on life teaches us that we are the masters of our destiny. When we think of ourselves as ’static beings’ we are in bondage, slaves to our pasts; but as ‘dynamic beings’ we know that we create the future, and our potential effect on this jumbled-mess-of-a-world is in fact infinite.

If we think of ourselves as the cork, we are prisoners, but as the river we are free to go any way we please. Free to be.

And, importantly, since we understand that we are just part of this whole constantly changing flux, we can realize that nothing is permanent. Holding on to anything, any form of attachment, is the source of much of our angst.

Letting Go Of Attachment

We conceptualize things as being static instead of what they are, transitory, and thereby we are pained when we inevitably lose what we like, what we love, and run away from those things which we don’t like or fear.

But if we accept that all of Life is evanescent, then we can truly appreciate those emotions we like, and at the same time understand those emotions we don’t care for are only temporary. We deal with them.

Tying all this in with the idea that self-deprivation can be beneficial to one’s being, we can see how the suffering we endure is transitory and an opportunity for potential growth.

By saturating our inner-most being with our emotions instead of running away from them, we understand each one of those emotions that much better. When we feel hunger, we also really feel the satisfaction on the other end of the spectrum when we experience nourishment.

The Verdict

With each meal during my fasting, all of my senses were heightened.

The slow savoring of every delectable bite of even the most basic dishes, the aroma from the dish entering my body, the breeze from the fan above me, the dancing bright bright red rose at my table, the splitter spat sound from the fountain behind me and the chattering of the Vietnamese couple at the table at the other end of the otherwise deserted restaurant.

Fasting brought me complete and unadulterated Nirvana over the course of the meal, an inability to think of anything else but all that was around me at that very moment-reveling in the moment.

I truly believe that temporary self-inflicted-deprivation of some kind is the panacea that many people stuck in our over-consumptive society really need. Many of us Westerners live a life in which everything is handed to us on a silver spoon, an existence devoid of struggle.

We are pleasure seekers who run from the first hint of discomfort and that which we fear. But by doing so, by not experiencing all these emotions which we think of as suffering, we deaden our senses and take m