During a recent trip to Southeast Asia, my dear cousin, Jeri Jonise, and I set out to capture the essence of travel while wasting away an eight-hour layover in Taipei.
Bringing together our passion for light, words, movement and spirit, we were able to create something profoundly representative of our immense gratitude for being given a life worth capturing and worth sharing.
As we sat, heart in heart, watching the chaos; the synchronistic deterioration of connection, the abundance of space, the vastness of separation, we laughed deep down inside ourselves, for we knew this: the only picture you paint is the one you wish to see.
All is that which you’ve created.
I have a partner in crime. She keeps me well for she sees the world in a way all her own. She sees the flowers explode with excitement in spring, the sunbeams dance in joy, the clouds take aimless shape and the sea speaks.
She is spontaneous and strange and happy and sad and beautiful and inspirational, all at once. I am her and she is me.
Together we live in a world without end, a horizon out of reach, a window without a frame, for these are the things of life worth befriending; the moments emblazoned in bliss, purity, peace, gratitude, love and grace.
What is it to travel?
It’s a stillness initiated. A moment appreciated. A breath taken. A smile cherished. A stranger noticed. An experience created. A love revealed.
For in watching those that wander past, a certain understanding is drawn about the intentions of their lives, the busyness of their minds, the cravings of their hearts and the tragedies of their souls.
To know someone has nothing to do with a name but instead to do with the validation of the shape, the sound, the smell, the taste, the space of their being, and all that lies beneath.
And in knowing the other, we come to know our own. To travel is the same. It is to know, to become, to observe, to engage, to create, to learn, to grow, to understand, to feel, and to be.
In that being, the wanderings of our soul come to know their home. No, not all those who wander are lost. Some wander for the sake of going so close to the edge that they have no choice but to face grace and leave all else behind.
To go to the cliff of the unknown, the fear, the danger, the excitement, the hope, the joy, the truth, the love and then jump.
All the while not trusting the branch from which they were perched but the wind beneath their wings. Yes, to travel; to wander, is to come home.
So as we watch, we see, but we also create, we explore, we dream, we discover, and then we repeat. We know full well no road could ever lead too far from home if home is where the heart is.
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Apprentice Editor: Brenna Fischer / Editor: Catherine Monkman
Photo: used with permission of the photographer, Jeri Gravlin
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