March is a magnificent time to be in California. For a few short weeks the Golden State is painted in a rainbow of greens, yellows and pinks. The paths are so beautiful and the air so sweet, you’d think you landed in Eden. I can’t remember the last time I experienced a Spring so gorgeous. I feel so blessed to be here. Anchored and aware.
It helps that I’ve recently taken up cycling as a hobby. It makes everyday travel completely possible in a place like NorCal. So much of my angst over the past five years stems from my desire to wander. After taking a year off from work in 2009, I’ve never completely shaken the desire to be back on the road playing vagabond again. Once you get a taste of ultimate freedom, it’s hard to accept anything less.
Riding around our neighborhood the other day, I came to a realization that so much of my love for travel stems from its ability to inspire in me new ways of seeing the world. When I wander Paris, Rome or Bangkok, I picture myself in the ghost ship of a parallel life, the one I’d be sailing had I made different choices. This mind exercise isn’t melancholic or anxious. If anything, it opens up a part of my psyche that usually lies dormant during the hustle and bustle of daily life. It’s transformative to let yourself imagine what’s possible, to set dreams into motion and visualize a lifestyle completely different from the status quo.
Passing through tree lined neighborhoods flanked by million(s) dollar mansions, I let myself imagine my future kids running around in the front yard, their screams and laughter permeating the street. I picture family barbecues and summer bonfires and long warm nights sipping wine with friends. Projecting a domestic family life is a foreign experience for me. Usually, my daydreams are composed of swank downtown lofts in faraway urban jungles or beachside villas and moonlit dance parties. Little kids and a barbecue grill have never made it into my wish list, until now.
Travel, even everyday local travel, is a mirror. It forces us to gauge our real selves against our idealized selves. It enables us to imagine worlds and lifestyles different from our own. These days, the daydream of a big front yard full of happy, screaming babies sets my heart abloom. Tomorrow, it’ll be different. Tomorrow, it’ll be another destination, another street, another route/trip/adventure. And in turn, another daydream built anew.
