Gospel for Vagabonds

Something about impermanence.

I know what it’s like to wish to move constantly. To believe that motion brings comfort and that journeying is your meditation, your most significant nutrient, and the definition your very core. There is stability to be found in the purchasing of bus tickets, the neverending museum lines, the wearing down of your favorite boots from too many cobblestone streets and dirt paths, the constant weight of a backpack on your shoulders, and beers shared between strangers.

That was me, until two years ago. I stumbled upon a person whose presence put my anxieties to rest. The very anxieties which had for years caused me to shake in my Nikes and throw my MasterCard at the Amtrak ticket window. Fight or flight, right?

I found calmness and satisfaction in standing still with them, and that’s not to say that we have not shared many adventures. However, for a short while, I had convinced myself that the life I had once imagined for myself was not what I wanted entirely, anymore. And there is nothing wrong with changing your mind. I am still only 21 years old. I have plenty of time to figure these sorts of things out. Love can show you things that you had never before even imagined wanting. In a way, it was my newest adventure. And it isn’t over yet, but in my time away (in Morocco, in case you’re new here), I learned a lot about impermanence.

I took a risk in leaving, but it was one I had to take — for myself, for my relationship, for the sake of my education, career, and future etcetera. I reaffirmed that motion and travel makes me inexplicably happy. That opportunity can flee.

People talk a lot about unconditional love, but maybe that’s where we’re wrong. Maybe in demanding that the weight be carried no matter the strain is what prevents us from truly being happy. It’s important to remember how to take care of yourself, even while maintaining the love you have for others. Taking it day by day and riding out the adventure is more often than not the remedy when people, such as myself, invent problems and let their anxieties get the best of them.

I’ve come to learn that adventure is still my sustenance and that this relationship is an adventure all its own. However, I mustn’t forget that I am still me, and that requires constant redrawing of my life itinerary.