Feeding the demon

On the bus, bumping along foreign streets filled with brown brick buildings and their modern counterparts reaching ever towards the heavens from Harlem, my mind wanders. My four days spent predominately in Brooklyn with jaunts to Manhattan has given me a chance to clear my head and come to terms with this indescribable uneasiness that has doggedly pursued me for the last few weeks. After a few years of trying to ignore the hungry demon, he has reared his ugly head. I am officially under the influence of my favorite and most addicting drug: Wanderlust.


Since my return from the UK, I've felt agitated, but not in an angry way. I mean, agitated the same way a washing machine agitates. I've been stirred up. And, really, for the first time since the UK, I felt the calming of the demon. I know that it's only temporary and that I'll likely feel this way forever, but sitting on the bus on my way back from New York City, I had the chance to really reflect on what it is about travel that seems to bring me back to myself. It probably has something to do with the rhythm of buses and trains or even the fact that I literally can't escape my thoughts, especially because I get so motion sick if I read on a bus/train. There's also something remarkable about feeling completely out of place. I loved walking around New York, knowing that I stuck out like a sore thumb--a very happy, brightly dressed, sore thumb.


The wanderlust is about all that, but also about so much more, at least for me. I've wanted to live abroad since I was seven, and while I've been blessed to see many parts of the world and to find my own little corners of it to call home, there's something missing.


I returned from New York today to see my passport still sitting out on my desk. Every time I spot it, I think, Yeah. I should probably put that away. But, I cannot bear to tuck it into the fireproof safe my parents bought me for Christmas in 2009 (that is a whole different story...). It seems that maybe there is a reason I am so taken by this drive. I'm not so naive as to think it isn't connected to the death of my grandfather and my amazing New Year spent in Edinburgh. I think, though, that those occurrences have served as catalysts for me to remember the desires of my heart. I keep returning to lyrics from Dido's song "Life for Rent":


I've always thought 
that I would love to live by the sea 
To travel the world alone 
and live my life more simply 
I have no idea what's happened to that dream 
Cause there's really nothing left here to stop me 

It's just a thought, only a thought 

But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy 
Well I deserve nothing more than I get 
Cause nothing I have is truly mine


Honestly, I don't know what it all means practically yet, but I feel like I have to listen to the little demon inside me. It's time to surrender to the wanderlust, perhaps in some temporary way over the summer and probably in a more lasting way after my graduation from Harvard Divinity School. He's been hungry for too long.

Me and a snow man in central park.
Yeah. He's sitting on the bench

My good friend from Pagosa, Cindy and Niman.
Niman showed us how to play Tibetan Singing Bowls.

My friend, Darya and I in front of a pretty fountain.
We made a wish.

Cindy and her husband, Ed.
They generously hosted Allison and I in Manhattan.

Allison made it up to New York, despite the snow!