“I would like to spend my whole life traveling, if I could borrow another life to spend at home.” – William Hazlitt
For the record, I never professed to know what the hell I’m doing with my life. My 40 years has been a series of glancing up and noticing open doors, dropping whatever I was currently doing, walking through them, and never looking back. I know this makes people scratch their heads in wonder, but it seems to be working for me so far.
Our year in Korea (and Jeju Island, New Zealand, Fiji, Thailand and China) is over. I have taught my last class, run my last run and have said my goodbyes. It’s been delightful. Confusing. Enriching. Exasperating. Breathtaking. And now I’m going home. To a door so familiar to me I can trace its lines in my sleep. To a backyard I can feel and smell whenever I hear laughter, and there is sunshine.
People ask me all the time if it was worth it. Like I bought a fancy, glittery comb at the dollar store that I was expecting would change my hair from poofy and thick into perfectly spiraled coils, or…something. I assure you, my hair is still ridiculously poofy and thick. And I never wanted curly hair to begin with. I have to comb my hair, right? Why not do so with a flash of sass?Time is going to pass, and life is going to happen, why not mix it up once in awhile – give yourself a reminder that you are but one of almost 7 billion human beings. Your experience is valid, but it is no more valid than the beggar on the riverbank in Bangkok, or the bag valet at a resort in Fiji.
I knew all along I wasn’t searching for anything on this journey. It was Anne Lamott who said expectations are resentments waiting to happen. And she got it so right. I came here with an open heart and an open mind, nothing to achieve or conquer. Because of this, every experience has been – just that – an experience.
So what is the question, exactly? Was the exchange of life at home for life here worth it? It being … ?
I regret nothing and I own it.
I do so love a wide-open door. And a big glittery comb.