“Journeys are the midwives of thought. Few places are more conducive to internal conversations than a moving plane, ship or train. There is an almost quaint correlation between what is in front of our eyes and the thoughts we are able to have in our heads: large thoughts at times requiring large views, new thoughts new places. Introspective reflections which are liable to stall are helped along by the flow of the landscape. The mind may be reluctant to think properly when thinking is all it is supposed to do.
At the end of hours of train-dreaming, we may feel we have been returned to ourselves - that is, brought back into contact with emotions and ideas of importance to us. It is not necessarily at home that we best encounter our true selves. The furniture insists that we cannot change because it does not; the domestice setting keeps us tethered to the person we are in ordinary life, but who may not be who we essentially are."
I wondered while in Scotland why I felt so at home so far from home. On trains, planes, and automobiles we can find a stillness or inspiration that may elude us normally. 'Home' surrounds us with familiarity. The mundane isn't so much damaging to thought as it lures us into forgetting where we are can by dynamic and full if we make it so.
I often get this feeling (is there a word for it?) of discomfort when I come home from a particularly amazing or long trip. I feel as if I have changed, or would have liked to have changed, in some manner. But exhausted, dragging in my suitcase and bedroll, I find the sheets on my bed were as I left them. The books remain alphabetized on the shelves. My posters and CDs, the same. My surroundings hadn't changed, neither had my city (even new to this town, we get used to new things so quickly). Going back to a city I lived in before college is a weird experience because--to me--so much time has past and the city should be different. I don't know how, but it SHOULD be changed, much like me (however small that change may be). Of course, our surroundings do not change to suit our immediate desires or internal states.
Even so, coming home often conflicts with my perceptions. Lindy Focus (a week long swing dance camp in North Carolina) was something so far outside of the ordinary, but I adjusted by the end of it. The trip only lasted a week, which is a short considering I lived abroad for two months, but it was a very full week of different experiences. I lived, breathed, and ate dancing practically 24 hours a day. Between classes, lessons, panel discussions, electives, and the evening dances I'm sure we were engaged 8-16 hours a day or more. Coming home itself became and adjustment again. Maybe that's the conflict. Coming home shouldn't be a conflict, but it is to some extent, because home at least feels so normal. And in my new experiences, normal becomes in some sense abnormal.
And so, even given those discomforts, I love traveling because it keeps me engaged in a particular way. I'm sure one day I will have to find a medium for that feeling closer to home, but for now dancing nearly every weekend in another city is a great excuse.
Ok, that was today's philosophical exercise (see my last post for the background). Next week look forward to two topics: Change and Work.
Ready? Here is a fun picture of a restaurant in Philadelphia.
I may constantly bitch and moan about being away from home almost every single weekend, but the truth of it is that I probably wouldn't know what to do with myself if I stayed home. (Say, for example, this weekend...)
ReplyDeleteEver since I've finished school, I've been on the move one way or another. Solo road trips, a trip to Asia, another to Alaska, and travel all over for dance and motorsports events. I keep telling myself that I'm going to have to slow down some day, but I still keep going with no signs of stopping.
I will say this though: I'm quite jealous of folks who travel for a singular purpose such as dancing. I feel like I have my fingers in too many cookie jars when it comes to social groups, especially as I travel about. There is rarely any crossover between my swing, salsa, and blues dancers and car enthusiast friends, so when I go somewhere, I'm stepping into a different social world each time in addition to a different geography and culture.
I'm part of the Ann Arbor swing scene, but not really, as I've spent time with Ann Arbor folks, but not enough to be intimately familiar with what's going on in Ann Arbor. Same can be said for me and the Detroit swing scene. The only place that I've danced and photographed salsa is still six hours away in Champaign, Illinois. I'm still close to the folks in the Champaign County Sports Car Club, but once again, I can only see them about half a dozen times a year now. I'm getting more involved with the Detroit Region of the SCCA, but with my push towards National autocross competition means that I won't be able to do much for the local car club either. Not to mention the fact that I'm one of the new guys on the National scene and barely know any of the other nationally competitive autocross drivers myself...
I've already thrown aside a potential relationship to pursue all of my hobbies and worked hard to retain a mediocrum of communication with my old, far-flung friends. But I can already see the writing on the wall: if I want to really excel at one of my hobbies, I will have to discard one more thing that I love. I can travel and do either driving or dancing, but not both. I don't know what it'll be in a few years, but that's in the future so I'll live for today and let things fall where they may.
The other option is to not travel and be able to dance and drive at the same time. But so far, the allure of simply "going somewhere" has been too strong, pretty much rendering the "no travel" option moot.
Wow, that was a long ramble. Anyways, enjoy your travels! Know that I agree a lot with what you've just written. At this point, home merely serves as a rest stop in between journeys.