Traveling In Time … no comments
As many of you might know, or not, I’ve been trying to get down to Mexico for some time now – since my last trip which was four years ago. I’ve been seriously going back since last May. That’s when I packed the suitcase that has remained packed for the last seven months or so.
But so far my path has been blocked. And it really doesn’t have all that much to do with the drug cartels along the border, although I did change my overland travel plans to flying down to southern Mexico. No sense in taking chances …
I write a lot, in other places, about the difference between being a tourist and being a traveler. The definitions of the two are as clear as a sunny day to me. Simply put, a tourist goes about on short trips, sees and does what they think they are supposed to see and do, and a traveler, just goes to find what is there. Well, that’s it in a nutshell. But there is also a difference between being a traveler and, well, traveling.
Anyone can get on a plane and go somewhere. A lot of people travel multiple times a year. They go for pleasure or business, and fly about the world at a moment’s notice. Many travel writers travel this way. Someone sends them somewhere on assignment and they go. They get the story or the photo, then go home and write about it. These people travel. They go from Point A to Point B, usually with a reason tucked into their pockets.
Some travel writers don’t even travel. They do their research from their desks and use their imagination to write about a far off location.
But there is another kind of travel. The kind where one doesn’t get to go until they are ready. The kind that feels like there is an undercurrent of purpose in the trip. One where timing is everything. The folks who travel this way are traveling.
So, back to Mexico.
Last May I was all packed and ready to go, then I got called back to work. The work stopped and my appendix got yanked out. Then there were house sits. Then there was the election and ok, I really wanted to work on the campaign and I also wanted to vote on election day so I waited and worked and voted. Then I was burnt out from working on the campaign. I did some yard work. I recovered from the campaign, but then my cousin came to visit. My new goal was Christmas but the place I wanted to stay, and a few of my other choices, were sold out. Pushed forward to the beginning of January. Bought a ticket, but I realized that I just wasn’t ready. Pushed back another week. Then I got a freelance job. Small, but I had to stick around for it. Ok, one more week. Then I came down with a horrendous cold.
Which I am now trying to recover from.
Will I ever get to Mexico? I’m beginning to not only wonder about that but I’m beginning to truly wonder about what it is that is waiting for me once I get there that I have to so be on the Universe’s schedule.
Anyway, what it comes down to is that travel happens on its own time. It can’t be forced, or coerced. If I was meant to be there this week, or this month, I would be. If I’m meant to be there next month I will be.
When it’s time, everything will just fall into place.