The Wheel

Navy Pier, Chicago, Illinois

Travel is a practice and has become my sacred meditation. Is there an element of escapism woven into the thread? A romanticized notion of getting on a plane? Sure. But it’s not about avoidance, if anything it’s exploration or confrontation or coming to terms with people, places, and most difficult times yourself. Movement in our lives is good, we need to oil our joints, take care of our bodies and our minds and more importantly, each other. Travel is movement. There is no escaping that.” Marianna Jamadi

It’s been two weeks on the ground and I’m plagued by restlessness and an inexplicable sense of meaninglessness. An all consuming feeling of disconnection rattles my bones; When was the last time I spoke to anyone I label as ‘friend’? Perhaps a few weeks ago, with my Chicago friend – we’re all so scattered around the globe. Once you begin to travel often, family and friendships are found on the road. The friendly stranger who stroke up a conversation upon arrival at the airport, becomes your travel companion and so on and so forth.

Why is it that when I’m traveling I don’t obsessively dwell on finding the meaning of being alive? Why is it that when I’m traveling I’m not consumed by deep thoughts of death? Why is it that when I’m traveling, I don’t question the worth or value of my existence? These thoughts have become my companions during my moving meditations – runs, HIIT, yoga, boxing, the gym – I find it easeful to connect with the divine while moving. As I walked through the halls that I call ‘work’, I was stopped along the path.

“Any awesome places coming up?” He asks.

“Yes.” I respond. “I’ll be in Denver soon.”

He goes on, “Don’t you get sick of it?”

There are a million thoughts racing through my being. Suddenly, my depressive state seems momentarily lifted. “No. I would do it everyday for the rest of my life.

“I couln’t do it.” He says.

By the Water, Chicago, Illinois

I sit. My mind races. Though words normally grace my mind with ease, today they escape me. Today, I am consumed by sensation, an insatiable near destructive desire, and wondrous daydreams of the road. Kali roars at me: What you feel is my way of protecting your soul. Kali has been a constant presence in my life since I landed. Slaying and destroying all that which doesn’t serve me. She wants me to walk away. She wants me to hop on the next mechanical bird out of here to never return. My reason takes over and I resist. Not yet, Kali. Not yet. She’s not particularly known for her patience. Rather than seeking for understanding, I’ll dwell in my desire to be consumed by my lust to wander, like wildfire. I’m honoring my inner Kali, but using the wisdom of Athena until the next steps reveal themselves.

“No rash actions, Wanda.” Athena reminds me as I walk out the door.

Passionate souls need constant reminders to not jump off every bridge they encounter.

Here’s to my last full week of ass in chair time prior to heading to Denver.

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