Give it to me strayed from the heart. This land was made for you and me. From America to Huacachina and beyond our giant swirling blue piece of the universe is enticingly diverse. Whether for purpose or pure roving, I own I am a gallivanting genius. Geography is my sweet tooth. There are extremely few places I can think of I don’t want to visit, such as the frontlines of any war zone or the inside of a shark’s mouth. Otherwise, I’m physiographically fated. Exploration is intrepidly instilled in every one of my mitochondria. Earth science is one of my flirtations. Seeking the dissimilarity of anything that’s come before my eyes prior remains an insatiable eccentricity. Planes are a soothing cocktail before the bounty of a seven-course journey. Destinations are my drug of choice.
Consider me a connoisseur of cultures and cartography. For every thumbtack worthy or techie geotagging digital online map I’ve met, I’m eager to make my mark as many points as able. I keep a flawless regard for birthing new nonfiction visions to punctuate my timeline. Reading or listening to learn about Timbuktu might be enough for some, but I want to shake those hands, breathe their air, taste homespun cuisine, and camp under the same moon I know from a differing view. The more remote or advanced arriving at a destination takes has the flair of ‘becoming’ on me. There’s a mythical aspect to making others backyards my own for a spell. Pack me a camera and we’ve just described a slice of my version of Heaven. Eternal traipsing fills my thoughts with infinite wonder.
My affair with longitude and latitude began as a young tyke. My dad’s brain was filled with geopoliticalness. He knew the places, names, and history of countless lands with which I wished to bear witness. I practiced memorizing all the countries by their flags from a vibrant array of mini flags he had in holsters lining the entire expanse of his university office window. One of my prized home possessions was a colorful globe that spun. Sparkles of my imaginations elation were perched under my fingertip every time I played the personal game to close my eyes, give a big whiz to that ball, and allow my finger to stop it. Every millimeter I could put my finger was a real living environment. I just knew I could get any of them if I really wanted.
Gambles are a grandiose key to life. Without risk, there is never a gain. Without chance, we don’t obtain options. If we don’t receive exactly what we want, with what I call bounce-back we can grow to evolve in a more healthy way. This is the super speedy ability when you’re not happy or receiving what you want to chin up, aka improve your mood. All countries are a signature challenge coaxing me along my bank account and air miles budgeting list. Whiffs of arrabbiata or seaweed stimulate another web rabbit hole search for a new place I’ve yet to set foot. Typically instead of t-shirts or such takeaways, I collect new friends, many I can call family. Occasionally, I keep a shell or a rock to tangibly touch that experience again when I may choose. When I can’t afford a new adventure, I bask in others escapades. An exquisite example is Tarsem Singh’s film The Fall.
As a dedicated roaming pioneer in my ancestry, I never met a spec of topography I didn’t fawn over. I think I fell in love with maps before boys, but it’s a close call. Mixing the two is another avocation altogether. Meandering far and wide questing more locations have equated to welcome glances from many a foreigner. Sinful sunset glazes haven’t only been the desserts on my plate. I’ve ventured to wistfully envision if I could settle with that Fijian moonlight man, or the Mykonos moonlight magic man, or perhaps the ski slopes bedside firelight one, and lest I not leave out my dalliance with the man in the Caribbean sea. Adorned with libations and thrumming human spirit, handling the romance of my meandering remains tainted with a kiss of kismet. While I may not have unearthed my main squeeze as yet, I’ve been summoning some close calls with extreme revelry.
Portions of my migrations are professionally strung into being. I distinctly remember the time I interviewed to be Drew Barrymore’s Personal Assistant. My interview at her office was in sweet square space they called the war room. From every wall hung a huge map nearly ceiling to floor and a round table in the center of the room with large mismatched vintage comfy chairs surrounding it. The moment I saw the maps I wanted the gig even more than before I entered the building. While I didn’t get the job, I’ve never forgotten the otherworldliness that seemed to fit what I heard of her perky personality and felt about my own life. I’ve sought activation globally with philanthropy and sustainability projects. Dubai, Ethiopia, London, and Rome are just a few spots I’ve visited more than once for work-related efforts. I’ve had my sights on landing the million miler account status with as many airlines as able sometime during my life. If I muck that up, I’m holding out for harnessing the time for travel hacking my way to a total million miles a year as does wonderful Nomadic Matt I’ve met.
All this drifting releases me. As a painter of landscapes with no traditional inks nor canvases, I find myself harmoniously pondering lazy stars gliding over and again above my midnight view from Joshua Tree to the Okovanga Delta. One of my greatest ironies is knowing I will never lay eyes nor walk on every foothold of this planet for sake of time and money, yet the resurgence to repeat favored escapes is replete. Immune to excuses against travel, the bohemian in me buzzes for immersion. My freedom is so intact, I’d offer myself for the A2017 UAE Mars colonization plan if I were still to be alive. To peg my hippie, glam, holistic, high-minded, low-maintenance, free-flowing sophisticated and avant-garde life perfectly, I am every inch ‘Gypset’ (gypsy + jet set) that dear Julia Chaplin coined.
We are the best commerce ever created. May the business of your life choices be fully punctuated with the wealthy commodity of exploration.
Where to next…