A month ago, a friend asked if I missed traveling. I didn’t really feel like I did. But I’ve been wondering about why ever since then.
I’m still not sure why not.
The inverse of the question is what was I getting out of traveling.
- A new space
- New food
- Different culture / pace
- A place that doesn’t know who I am
- Freedom of time
- New stories
- New sights
- New people
- Different activities
- Freedom to try new things
- Finding a new way to articulate my own feelings and thoughts
There’s no equivalent to a place. I can’t replicate Dublin or Singapore.
Its unique combination of everything (weather, food, people, history, philosophies) is what makes a place a place.
But is there ways to tease out what I want in smaller slices?
Reading a book doesn’t compare. But does it give me a sense of a different world? A different perspective? A new story?
Or playing a video game? Or watching a movie?
Cooking or ruminating on a thought is a way to explore an idea or trigger a sense memory. New hobbies is that exploration and trying different things.
I dunno. None of captures the holistic experience, but it’s small doses of the things I’m looking for. Is it good enough? Maybe for now. Maybe not. Maybe I don’t have a choice in the matter with the world the way it is.
When you’re restricted in moving along the physical dimensions of X, Y, and Z. What are you left with? Moving through time. Past, present, future.
Memory, living, and planning. Backwards, forwards.
Again, this all might be intellectual denial. But something to think about for myself.
Dynamic Hypocrisy 