I recently spent nearly a week in Boston. Then took a quick jaunt to Manhattan. By quick jaunt I mean I was there less than twenty four hours. I enjoy cities. This was my first time to visit Boston, and I liked it. Look forward to going back. I have now been to NYC four times. And each time I am there, I’m amazed. At the activity. The sheer number of people and happenings. The fast pace. The energy. I found Boston to be similar. Smaller, yes. But still. Bustling. Masses of people walking on sidewalks. Hurried. Yet purposeful.
I try to find something to bring home each time I travel. Not as in a souvenir. Although I generally do purchase at least one item. And take many photos. What I’m getting at is what some would label a takeaway.
A word or thought or message. There were some this time around. There was also the realization I need to go to the forest.
Alright, so maybe that seems extreme and Walden-esque. I’m not sure. But I realized, as I drove home after spending time with both my children who are now settled in the Northeast, that I needed a day away from everything. Away from people. Away from my home, my dog, my work, my everything. Yesterday was the first opportunity. So I took it. I drove to my favorite place to go when I am looking for this particular situation. At least it’s my current favorite go to. I planned to take a hike. I ended up taking three. I packed my lunch. Some water. Two journals. Yes, I wrote in both. They have separate purposes. I reflected. Thought. Analyzed. Yet relaxed. Was easy on myself. Which I often am not.
Interestingly, today my thought process continued. Sort of a day two, even though I was back home. Going about my Sunday. Thoughts about happiness and joy. Wondering if I completely botched exemplifying it to my kids as they grew up. Curious as to if it’s too late. Regrets. I texted a friend and she mentioned regrets and I thought through some of mine. Mainly again, those pertaining to raising my children. And I thought about the future. Not a bunch. But enough to say I did. And not be frightened of it. Want to experience it. Experience. A word which evokes. A noun, as in I had an exhilarating experience in the Andes. Or It was the experience of a lifetime. But also a verb. I want to experience a helicopter ride.
I want to be an explorer. I had that thought yesterday. At this particular spot in the Red River Gorge labeled Angel Windows. I considered how my family growing up went for hikes. In the desert on government land. No trail. No guide. Just exploration. Seeing new things each time. Seeing the familiar too. Freedom though. That sounds juvenile, right? I…want…to…be…an…explorer. Like Magellan? Or Ponce de Leon? Not exactly. I want to be me. And I want to experience. So maybe that’s a better term. I want to be an experiencer.
I suppose everyone does to an extent. Wants to experience something. I want to do more than want to, I suppose. Life gets muddled. Busy. Repetitive. Life. Moves pretty fast. I think we all know the Ferris Bueller quote, correct? No, not “Bueller?…Bueller?….Bueller?” The other one…”Life moves pretty…” So maybe I should be more like Ferris. Maybe we all should. Even though we’re not living a John Hughes movie.
Experiment. Expressive. Explosive. Other exp words.
Expectant. Expert. Expatriate (as in, let’s move to a new country).
Words which hold implications. Energy. Forward motion. Exponential.
Upon a Sunny Day 