The Traveler

The road has no beginning or end. It is rugged. It is smooth. The road travels through steep ravens when the elevation rises so high ears pop and it feels like there are inches from falling into the abyss. The road will drive for miles in a straight line as an entrance to a geometric equation where forward is the only direction. There will be sites of towering mountains, then rolling hills, rain forests surrounded my waterfalls. There will be such desolate voidness that it will be easy to forget life exists. There will be sceneries of quaintness and homeliness and poverty and lavishness. Such wonders will appear as it will seem impossible to be earthly, but the presence of awesomeness will create pride to be amongst it.

No road is too easy. There is no road too impossible to travel. Our Odysseus cannot be held back from his ventures. He has a wondering eye and a curious spirit. He soaks in all the views whether good or bad to store in his repertoire of memories. He is unbound to the errors of this world seeking only what he knows is right in his heart.

It could be a possession of selfishness, but it could also be a mark of a true explorer. No longer tied to the establishments of conditioning our traveler explores the worlds of his thought desiring the desperation of freedom. Cages of materialism, duty, responsibility cannot contain him. He has a moral obligation to himself: to seek, to wonder, to learn, to experience, to never, ever limit himself to the possibilities of a world of nature.

Upon his Odyssey, the hero crosses boundaries to dare to resist conventionalism. His heart is eager and his mind is focused. Does he dare to travel alone, which can be a lonely lifestyle, or does he meet existing travelers along the way? Does he find what his heart searches? Does all his hopes and expectations become fulfilled? Is he the hero we applaud and envy because we are too scared to achieve his attempts? Or do we judge and condemn his foolish efforts.

Does the traveler have the story of all ages with examples of courageousness and valuer? Do we see him as an example to learn and be inspired or do we remain content to be contained? Does he tell our stories we are too afraid to accomplish? Or does he laugh at us for our lack of faith?

I see myself in him running at the opportunity to embrace the freedom. I feel myself filled with excitement of an adventure that can only be mine. There is hope in the unexpected and joy for whatever may come.

I go with the traveler because he is a good companion for the journey. He listens well and offers good conversation. He reminds me of what I love and what I long to see and do. I keep the traveler close so I do not forget. I do not want to be filled with regret that will later make him laugh at my lack of faith. I travel with him because I am open to views that others ignore or overlook.

Along the many roads of various conditions we travel steadily, faithfully. I have our destinations mapped. Our anticipation grows to the anthem of notes playing continuously amongst us. The music that never stops playing as our soundtrack moving to the shapes of passing scenery. Like a locomotive's piston to keep the engine running to a rhythm-the music is out meter to the passing miles helping time to pass as if it never existed bring new meaning to there is only now.

With any journey there is an end. Depending on attitude and vision determines the journey's rate of success. How profitable is the experience? Did you visit all the destinations? Did you stay under budget? Did you meet many people? Did the driving run smoothly? Did you manage to avoid unwelcome surprises? Or, is it possible to experience the journey as another dimension and not the pure physical? Is it possible for every wrong disastrous occurrence to happen yet still have the best experience? Is it possible to have been completely lost but also viewed as a time of discovery and new possibilities? Is it possible to strike every emotion never feeling more alive? Is it conceivable to be surrounded by such loneliness that you soul welcomes the peace? Is it conceivable to enjoy the trouble because you know it makes you stronger?

Stories are not built on the foundation of good luck or perfect harmony. Stories are constructed upon the adversities faced then the challenge to overcome. What interest is there if everything moved perfectly. Where would the growth be? Where would the captivation exist?

For myself, I will shine for my achievements and scoff at your fears for I attempted what you could not conceive. I dared to resist my fears pressing into my dreams. Not just my desires, but what I know is impossible I now believe can be realty.

The traveler knows this. He knows it all to well. He moves with ease as I watch from his lessons. We move with no fear, only forward to the One who knows best.

The Traveler.