Not all who wander are lost

You know what I wish? I wish that a plane ticket to anywhere was like ten dollars, or better yet, free. I know it's not possible, but then again, how often are my reveries on here possible? And can you imagine how unbelievable that would be? Ah, such a stunning concept. And maybe I am just so enamored with this concept because I have always been a believer in the idea that this world is gorgeous and intricate and peculiar and so gosh darn monstrous that it almost demands to be traveled, to be tread upon, to be visited and happened upon and sought and seized and digested. To be wandered. I mean, that's what traveling's all about.

But so many people these days are surprisingly - and sadly - far too keen on the idea of hovering, of lingering, of being poised in all the wrong ways. Oh, what a travesty! Perhaps it's because we're too wrapped up in our own agendas, perhaps it's because we have this grossly evident love affair with all things lazy, perhaps it's because we've become so entranced by our false perceptions of reality, dependent upon the world that resides within our laptops and smart phones and tv screens. Because seeing a picture of a place on the internet or the travel channel is the rough equivalent of seeing it in person, right? Wait. Nope. This has got to change.

Oh man, I wish with all my heart that everyone had the means to get up and go. To see places that startle them. To meet people who change them. To climb mountains that take their breath away, both literally and figuratively I suppose. To breathe in the air of every major city. To eat foods that frighten them. To touch down in a place where no one knows their name. To soak in a scene that will forever change their perspective. To be made new by a place of old. To be thrown and tossed and immersed and wisped and battered and denatured and floored and awed and bewildered and inspired. To become a rambler of the world.

Wow. That sounds nice.