“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” - André Gide
I could begin this post outlining the ins-and-outs of my fear of flying, but I'll spare you the details. Takeoff is always accompanied by white knuckles and repeating the same mantra I've been saying for years over and over in my head. I won't get into the over exaggerated details.
I've typed blog posts from the back seat of a car, poolside, beachside and of course from some of my favorite coffee shops. Today I bring you this post from 35,000 feet above. I've had the opportunity to travel pretty frequently over the past few years. I've worked South by South West music festival, road tripped through California, ate my way through Portland, and had life changing experiences in Italy.
Although flying for me (or rather with me) is slightly traumatic, the process is still relatively thrilling--romantic even. Hailing a cab early morning, wide brimmed hat extra low to hide the lack of sleep, I'll race off to the airport, daydreaming as I gaze at passing bridges--all illuminated by a rising sun. I'll sit at the gate, sipping my first and certainly not last latte of the day.
The quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Life is a journey, not a destination," has never seemed more accurate. The hours before landing are consumed with daydreams and foggy recollections. The anticipation of discovering the new is what makes traveling so important to me. Whether that be discovering a historic church in Milan, the feeling that comes with peering out over Lake Como, or the realization that with that moment I've discovered a little piece of myself.