A Love Letter to Travelers
To the dreamers. To the travelers I’ve met and to the travelers who I have yet to meet, and by travelers I mean soul mates too.
To those who are fearful of stepping outside the circle of convenience and convention, I will speak of my own fears too. To those who are overwhelmed of flooding emotions and thoughts, I will listen fully and recommend meditation after the ritual of release. To those who keep questioning themselves before dipping their toes into the water, I will give them a copy of a letter entitled Live Like a Mighty River written by Ted Hughes and sent to his son. To the childlike. To the meek. To those who wisely balance their professions and their nomadic energies, I will commend them of passions well done. To those whose perspectives get narrowed down by social rules and labels, I will flow with my intimate words which will widen and deepen their consciousness.
To those who are moved by art, I will ask them to show me their own art and show it to the awaiting world. To those who complain in the 12-hour bus ride to the border, I will recommend browsing Infinite Satori and The Travelling Light blogs, or Pico Iyer’s travel essays and Mary Oliver’s poems, or Melissa Unger’s Seymour Projects and Maria Popova’s Brain Pickings (and Art of Movement of course) and find solace and expansion in their borderless endeavors. To those who struggle with the mechanics of people coming and going, I will ask for their addresses and send them postcards crafted with friendship. To those who drive in the cold and dark to catch the sunrise at the beach, in solitude or in group, I will smile and sit with them, bless the nature with presence, and beam at the circulating love within and around. To those who thinks thrice before approaching the girl at the hammock, I will share them the story of when someone asked for my name and allowed me to be born once more.
To the beginners. To those who doubt where, when, what, and how to start, I will share them the story of when the owner of a coffee shop in Boracay Island approached me while browsing through the bookshelf and inquired about the kind of books I read. I picked up three I know but haven’t read yet. The owner asked me to select one. I smilingly placed the chosen book Wild by Cheryl Strayed in my chest.
To the dreamers. The cosmos collaborates, one wander at a time.
Also published in Thought Catalog