That old adage about it not being about the destination but the journey, that’s me. Wandering is where my joy lives. Unplanned, spontaneous, ambling, twisting, serendipitous journeys are my definition of a day well spent … or a week … or an extra few days because I’ve missed my flight due to being distracted by an amazing conversation (note to self: subject for future post …)
Meanwhile, I’ve always struggled with oral storytelling. (But how shall I presume?) I’m a much better listener than talker. Yet hand me a journal, or ask me to write to you while I’m on a trip, and I lose track of time (and word count) unraveling the threads and revealing the magical spaces in between the many worlds outside my many windows.
So it’s no surprise that as time passes … and my hearing deteriorates … and my means to travel improves … and my time at home in front of a computer screen increases … I have decided to start this here blog, to share memories of journeys past, post about experiences present, and dream about jaunts that just may, if the creek don’t rise, be in my future.
So let us go then, you and I, ’til human voices wake us, and we drown.
* Apologies and credit to the amazing T.S. Eliot