Returning around the world
Maybe life could be defined as the art of travelling, both in interior and exterior form. I understand that the true traveler is he who takes his steps inside, so during times of immobility I try to discover inland helped by reading and frequenting intelligent and kind friends. But my cerebral cortex constantly impels me to undertake more the physical than the spiritual way; It is difficult to follow the map of introspection and one is easily lost, but takes comfort knowing that the traveler-abroad discovers in himself unattainable flashes of transcendence much better than the inside-traveler.
In any case I understand that foreign trip is a necessary propaedeutic for inner exploration. And it is that the pilgrimage itself one contemplates spiritual fulfillment mechanisms promoted by the mental stimulation that facilitates the journey.
Change continent with the intention to be on their way for a long time, jumping from country when you think he has bloomed my modest and ephemeral garden, subject to changes in wind direction, given the vagaries of intuition and submissive to the vagaries of fortune. I become nomadic sine die in the hope, perhaps naive, to back wiser, a better person and with the paved road for one day to take the inner journey, the truly important.
