The Art of Travel

There is something about deserts that makes you think.  Perhaps it is their vast emptiness that allows for clarity and perspective.  The stretching landscape reveals everything and is exposed to all eyes; whereas a first is deep and mysterious, perfect for secrets.

I say this because I am currently driving from California to Salt Lake and we just passed Barstow (my dad calls it the armpit of America).  That means we have a lot of driving time left, and a lot of desert to cover.  I find myself staring out the window at the cracked earth and scattered shrubs, and for some reason it pulls my mind into thinking.  This is what always happens.

So here's what I'm thinking about... (drum roll please)



What is art?  What standards must be achieved to classify something as art?  I believe that art is a way to become immortalized.  Whatever that may be...

So how does one make traveling through life a work of art?  Our lives are not made out of our shining, fleeting moments of success or pleasure; but rather our daily journeys that at times seem monotonous and unimportant.  Journeys to Costco, class, appointments, work, etc.  The daily routine that eventually makes up an entire lifetime.

It is how we react in these everyday situations that creates an artful life.  It is how you view these dull activities that fabricate a lifestyle.  I see that if you go through life not caring about which crowd you are in or what your label is, you will find yourself surrounded by loved ones and happy beyond measure.  If your ignorant judgement of others does not decide how you will act, life can be brilliant.

Speaking to those who travel abroad: international or extended travel reminds us of our own insignificance.  It makes our own petty worries shrink and our eyes focus on a grander picture.  It can open minds to new ideas, give a better picture of what we want out of life, and show how blessed we are.

To all: our daily journeys to the supermarket are even more important than world-wide travel.  President Hinckley once said, "The gates of heaven swing on small hinges."  It's the little things that count, beginning with how we view others.  Seeing them as equal in worth is key.  When you see them as inferior, pride leads you to become angry, irritated, or indifferent toward them.  When superior, you feel self-conscious and not confident.  And believe me, people can tell the way you view them.

The art of travel is simply a way of saying "how to go through life and achieve the greatest amount of true joy possible."

Being happy and other virtues

This is how you become the best you can be, which will undoubtably bring happiness.  

For example: Something you're passionate about is life.  So become immensely interested in it, and continue to let that interest grow.  Look around you and see the beauty of the world.  Keep your head up and see the people around you.  Lift them, and allow them to lift you.  Foster life-long relationships with others, and don't let petty things keep you from holding fast to those friendships.  Call your family members, both close and estranged, and ask them how they are doing.  Learn about other cultures and develop a respect for them.  Eat good food and go on long walks.  Find yourself in the mountains with good people and a good view.  Read books, and then read some more books, so that you can have more insight to things around you.  Look down from the tops of man-made skyscrapers God's peaks and canyons.  Admire the beautiful artwork and architecture around us, and immerse yourself with beautiful melodies and music that move the soul. 

These are just a few ways to show that you appreciate this life you've been given.  Be grateful.

And doing this doesn't ensure that there will be no bad days or hard times, but it does make those times less bad and less hard.  It gives you things to be grateful for even in moments of distress and sorrow.

I left my heart in Cambodia.

So I've been thinking a lot about Cambodia.  About the marshy green landscape littered with rice paddies, the soupy weather, the wooden huts on stilts, and the skewered heads and bright fabrics at the market.  About the morning walks to the bakery, the elephant ride to the temple, and the bus ride to the rickety bus ride to the village.  I miss seeing six people stacked precariously on one moped, and water buffalo just hanging out in the shade.  But mostly I think about the people.  At times I am so overcome with missing them that it hurts.  You know that spot in the middle of your chest that just twinges when you miss someone or something?  Kind of like you've swallowed too much water in one gulp and it hurts as it goes down your throat.  It's like a literal heartache.
I have an ongoing battle with nostalgia and often have to remind myself that the best days lie ahead rather than behind me.  Just to seize the day and live in the moment.  However, when that bloody nostalgia gets the better of me, and I am suddenly flooded with it until my ears are bursting with the sounds of days past and my eyes are tearing up as my heart yearns for things that will never come again, I find it is mostly because of memories like Cambodia.  And there's no remedy for this sort of pain, but vomiting words onto a paper (or in this case into cyberspace) always helps closure come quicker.
The people there are just the most humble and hard working humans I have ever met.  They are selfless and loving and beautiful.  The beauty is shown in every wrinkle of their weathered faces, and each hole where a tooth is meant to be.  It shines out of them like moonlight- subtle and quiet.  They don't know they have it, nor do they work to achieve it, but rather it's an innate need to survive in their less that optimal conditions.  Oh how I love them.  Oh how I wish I could pull up on a bus again and see fifty kids with beaming faces running towards me full speed and never putting breaks on- just plowing into my tummy and hugging me and saying words I don't understand.  Except for one word.  "Akon tran." Thank you.
But it's me who should be thanking them.  And although I have let many days and nights go by without  acting on the gratitude I feel, I do love them and thank them.  Thank them for showing me what true happiness is, and to find it one only has to look outside themselves.

Here are some beautifully happy people for you to love as much as I do.  Notice their brightness.