“You expect me to just pay bills and die?”

Paris, Tokyo

Paris, Tokyo

You're my favourite drug.  When I inhale you, its intoxicating.  I long for my next fix.  How long will it last?  What type of interesting people will I meet under the grip of your influence?   The addiction to the contours of your body is real.  Each hit of you thrills me.  Sends my hairs at attention.  The voluptuous peaks and valleys excite me to no end.  Every sensation tingles.  I drink from your well.  Thirsty for everything you have at your core.  You make me a better man.

Photo Credit:

Photo Credit:

Travel, this is my love letter to you.  I'm a man of many interests.  Out of my many loves, travel slots right into the top three.  Its like the little spoon engulfing themselves into my nook.

So, why?

I feel travel is one of the most important aspects of human development.  It gives a keen sense of perspective.  I feel kinship with the people I meet from every different variation of life.  To know we're separated by vast kilometres and still view things in a similar light.  When we disagree, we reason and come to a conclusion that equally compounds on the aforementioned perspective.

First things first, I'm a very eccentric combination of an introvert and an extrovert.  I don't know what that is called, but I'm that.  For this reason, I'm no good to travel with.  When it comes to making plans and touching all the tourist attractions, I don't mesh well.  Life, day to day, is rampant with schedules, curriculums and deadlines.  These are the very things most try to escape.  When I'm away, time doesn't exist, its just another constraint attempting to pacify my enjoyment.  

"Be water, my friend.  Be water."

Photo Credit:

Photo Credit:

It could be the crash of the waves rthymically caressing the shore. 

It could be a day full of hijinks with my boys on the beach.

It could be poolside, indulging in excessive amounts of Pina Colodas.

Every scenario brings me to water.  This is the muse.  What's your muse?  Do you strive for the flow state of water?  To be present like nothing existed before or nothing may come after.  Eat, drink, sleep, laugh, Fuck, walk, like you've never done it before.  Slow, in a controlled manner that allows you to appreciate it. This is the life I enjoy when I'm away from the concrete jungle I call home. 

A place to call my own.  I'll be honest.  This current version of the world scares me.  People talk about it all the time.  Bad news with a healthy dose of more bad news.  Sexual abuse.  Racism.  Sexism.  Police brutality.  Condescension.  Pedophilia.  Its a heavy battering of negativity which anchors your heart.  I don't want this for myself.  Shit, I don't want this for you.

That was a decision I made years ago.  Why would I choose to raise a child in a place 'Costco-sized with hate?  

So, I travel, I look for alternate places to call my own.  Where I can work to live and not the reverse.  While I understand that everywhere has its share of issues, I treat it like relationships.  In relationships, I look for the big ticket commonalities, you know, compassion, morals, ethics, passion, family, heart.  The personality defects become minutia and you learn to love the foibles.  The way I love this city, all the while understanding our commonalities may never align.  

"I get those goosebumps every time, you come around, yeah!  You ease my mind..."

When I meet someone who views the world through a similar prism, I get those goosebumps.  It doesn't have to be anything romantic.  I'm talking about the meeting of minds.  A kindred spirit who just converses without waiting to interject with a better anecdote.  Where a moment was shared that just the people involved could ever experience fully.  It will never be duplicated.  I live for that.  

To travel, is to engage.  To engage in something far greater than yourself.  To see there are other people out there.  Some with more.  More with less.  You gain perspective and a newfound appreciation for your own patch of dirt you call home.  Its a thing of beauty like the seasons, each one allows you to appreciate the other.

Marque Cecil 


Mourning in America

Mourning in America