The Restless Souls: February 14, 2014- Present
Today marks the 4 year anniversary of #TheRestlessSouls blog. Exactly one year ago I was in Lima, the year before that, in Austin, the year before that in London, the year before that, Madrid. This year I’m back in New Jersey after an unexpected 3 week trip to Israel, Madrid, and Portugal.
The past 365 days have knocked me off my feet and onto my knees. There were so many extreme highs and shattering lows, I know there’s a million lessons to be unearthed from this year in review. Here is just one restless soul takeaway from 14 February 2017 to 14 February 2018...
In the past 4 years I’ve held 7 official residences, not including the countless hostels, camps, couches, and buses that have served as temporary homes. It gets tiring, living with this impermanence. But it is also a great exercise in non-attachment. I often get asked how I can live out of a suitcase. Before, to prove the point that I didn’t need much, I used to smugly say: “you know, I’ve heard people who have just lost all of their things in a fire actually feel a great sense of relief.” What the hell did I know? I was mimicking what I thought it meant to be enlightened, never actually suffering that fate myself.
Then, in the early hours of December 31st, 2017, New Year’s Eve: my father’s apartment caught fire. It started in the back of the building and clawed up the fire escape. To make a terrible story short, the roof collapsed from the weight of water used to put out the flames. Everything in my Dad’s apartment was burned or crushed. The whole building is condemned and remains inaccesible.
But out of every awful event- the most important thing prevails: my Dad is alive, he escaped unscathed through his third floor window thanks to the bravery of the firemen who responded. His passport, all of his clothes, books, furniture, the few photographs he had of family in Thailand, all of it is gone. Also gone are my travel journals from the past year, skateboard, camera, suitcases filled with clothes and art collected from around the world.
Despite living with a constant impermanence, that last thing, the art, is what I deeply miss. It was a grounding process every time I moved somewhere new. I’d spread all of the colorful squares of art, pictures, photographs, and ceramics on my bed so I could behold the display in front of my eyes. I’d visualize where I’d put the series of postcards from Naples, and the azulejos prints from Portugal. I’d imagine where my photographs from Peru would hang, and I’d flip certain prints, seeing a new image in a picture laid upside down. Then I’d get to work, decorating my new four walls with these mementos that gave me a sense of home, finding joy in a new space and a new light. When I travel, I tend to travel alone, but I always had a constant companion in my art. With each place I visited, I’d add to the collection: prints of tapestries from Scotland, watercolor skylines from Iceland, and miniatures of my favorite paintings from Spain.
I know they’re just things, but these tangible bits of art gave me some semblance of roots. Even the most restless soul needs a talisman, a keepsake to keep one’s heart safe. At least that’s what I thought...
Losing my phone, having my entire backpack stolen the next month, then getting another phone stolen, and on and on. I think this fire was the final nail in the coffin of covetousness. I am not my art, or my journals, or my phone, or my camera, or my clothes. I am not any of it. And maybe to prove that point: the universe tested me with an unprecedented amount of loss this year. So much lost, stolen, burned, and borrowed. So I say thank you for it all. Everything that leaves me goes to someone/somewhere else. Because when you lose, whether it be physical or mental: more space opens up for the light to come in.
Traveling treads a dynamic balance between arrogance and humility. It’s easy to grow an ego visiting different countries and wanting to tell the world about it. But it’s also extremely humbling to meet individuals and communities truly making an impact where they are. All we can really do is start where we are. We can’t take any of it with us when we die, none of these material things. But the empathy we share, the time we give, and the patience we practice is lasting. This next year, I will live with less and give more. I will strive to sync my thoughts, my words, and my deeds into harmonious expression. This year, I’m not traveling to find myself, I’m living to define myself.
