zimatravels

     The dictionary definition of vagabond starts out unjudgementally as simply “one who moves from place to place.”  However, reading on, the meaning takes on the negative aspects of “unsettled, drifting, shifting, worthless, irresponsible, good-for-nothing.”  My dictionary doesn’t exactly get to “bum,” but that could be an unkind, short synonym for vagabond.

     The dictionary definition of nomad and wanderer is kinder and simply indicates moving from place to place according to some kind of need.  A traveler “goes from one place to another.”  A tourist “tours for pleasure.”

     But what the dictionary definitions don’t capture at all is the need, indeed the hunger, the intense deep desire to leave the comfortable and the known and set out for the unknown and unpredictable, searching for new dimensions to life and living.

     As a young adult, I thought I knew what lifestyle I wanted to live.  But there was also a subconscious other voice inside me to stretch beyond those limits.  In my mid-30’s, I began to have a recurring dream in which I entered a large house and discovered exciting new rooms as I wandered around.  Often I would go back to familiar rooms first, but always search for a new room.  I had a vague sense that I was exploring parts of myself I hadn’t discovered yet.

     The strong urge that I couldn’t have named at the time eventually and painfully pushed me out of a 22-year relationship.  My son never forgave me for breaking up the family.  It was indeed a heavy price to pay, especially without clearly understanding why I was doing it.

     Once I made the break, I never had the dream again.  After many years and the clarity of hindsight, I came to understand that I sought the freedom to go where I wanted in the world because I craved adventure,  challenge, and change.  I discovered strengths I never knew I had.  I found what I was good at.  I had a natural talent for teaching English in faraway lands while adjusting to other cultures and flourishing in them.  I intuitively became a bridge builder in whatever culture I lived in.  And I became a sculptor of sorts who was able to carve out a niche for myself wherever I chose to live.

     Although my journeys were geographical, they were also explorations into very personal, emotional, and cultural realms.  Although who I was at my core remained constant, traveling shook up many of my values, my view of the U.S. and the world, my view of my life, and my view of myself.  I developed into a happy hybrid who accepted that my personality was American, my homeland was Israel, my heart was in China, and my spirit was in Bali.  Somehow these parts made me whole.

     Many people, especially women, call me brave to have wandered the world on my own.  That always surprises me because I think you are only brave when you have to confront or overcome fear.  Although I was sometimes cautious and didn’t purposely court dangerous situations, I wasn’t afraid.

     I recently visited Olympic National Park in Washington state and learned a lot about salmon.  Perhaps salmon are best known for their innate, uncanny urge to go home to where they were born when it’s time for them to spawn.  But one of the ranger’s sentences especially caught my attention.  In spite of all the natural instincts pulling salmon back home, he said, “There are always wanderers among salmon.”  These wanderers strike out to unknown territory.  And, because of these wanderers, these trail blazers, salmon may succeed in populating different streams.

     Which kind of traveler are you?  If you aren’t sure yet which category you fall into, soothe your itchy feet and pack your bag with lots of open mind,  curiosity, flexibility, and a Lonely Planet guidebook.  Trust your gut feelings.  You’ll learn what’s right for you.

     Bon Voyage!!