Getting From Points A to B

Hello, friends! I’m so glad that you’re back here again, to see what manner of foolishness I have come up with this time. Lol.

I know it is terribly bad form to apologize for a piece of writing before it is even read, but I do wish to say that I regret if the post of this week doesn’t meet standards of thoughtfulness and clarity.

It has been written just now, as I sit here on the train, and let my thoughts flow.

Thank you so much. -BW

The phrase: “Wherever you go, there you are.” is obvious, condescending, and not entirely correct.

It would be, for sure, if all peoples, places, things, and ideas were the same, but alas, my experience thus far has not told me so.

I mean, some things are practically the same. Like sorbet and ice cream for instance.

But the phrase at the beginning of this post relies on the assumption that people are always the same all the time, regardless of time, place, and digestion. This is -of course- patently ridiculous.

It would be pure and arrogant hubris to speak of other people as two faced, for I don’t know all or even most people who grace our sphere. There’s only one person I know, and that is myself.

Whereas I can’t say for certain that other people change their attitudes from place to place, I know that I do.

When I’m at home, I’m the sleepy head with inky fingers, surrounded by unshelved books and loose t-shirts.

At church I’m the smiling and jovial youth who shakes hands and takes two cookies with his coffee.

With friends I’m the loud punster at a momentary loss for words.

When we talk of ourselves, don’t we really talk about the collection of amiable masks that we trot around in front of people?

I was once told that the true definition of a man’s value and integrity is the sort of person he is when he’s alone. I think the same could be said of a person when traveling.

Of course, I’m a writing this while under the influence of passing scenery and a gentle rocking, so my viewpoint is anything but objective.

I realize that a person is constantly in a state of flux, changing their mind, changing their hair, and changing diapers. Present in this variation is a variation of scenery.

I love to glide down the road to places I’ve never been, down paths I’ve never taken, to see people I’ve never met. This newness, this freshness of pace is what keeps me as a person fluid, spontaneous, and open minded.

Everyone thinks that travel can’t possibly broaden the mind until they travel.

In a way, I think we owe it to ourselves to make sure and see if we are the same delightful people away from all we’ve known and the comforts of home. What sort of people are we if we cannot be civil, rational, and kind unless pampered by the same comfortable surroundings that we are familiar with?

Now, I don’t write this today to condemn anyone, or to make any sort of person uncomfortable. These are simply the thoughts that hit my sleep deprived mind as I sit here, and feel the pleasant vibration of every imperfection of the train tracks. It’s only when I travel that I realize how much I love it.

I like trains.


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