Lately, a lot of my time has been spent on the road.
It's kind of sad how the exploratory nature of traveling can leave your mind wandering in so many directions and yet how the actual act of traveling can leave you totally sapped of inspiration. The difference, I suppose, is between the vacation and the commute.
The vacation brings me something new - new sights, smells, experiences. I write a new history in paths worn by millions before me though the paths seem fresh because it's the first time I have, upon them, trodden. The vacation gives me a reason to explore - to find something to eat, or drink, or wear.
It gives me a reason to be more introspective in relation to how much bigger the world is than self.
The commute leads me down a different sort of beaten path - the path I've beaten down. It leaves me on cold, heartless, and unforgiving interstate roads behind a train of a thousand different cars all driving in the same directions as I: work or home.
Too, maybe the vacation is in some ways representative of a bit of heaven...without the work that is. Most of our time vacating our homes is spent within an industry called hospitality. We're greeted warmly by people who are seemingly thankful for our stays, for our plays, for our eating, drinking, and merry making. They love us because they love our business, but they play out their act of love well - and in that it's no heaven at all...just an act.
1 comment:
glad you're back online.
where you been travelin?
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