Beauty Makes Me Wistful

I wrote this article about 8 months ago and have hesitated to post it ever since. For some reason I’m compelled to put it out in the world now that I’m reading it sitting at my home in Mississauga. I’m not sure it makes any sense, but with so much time on your hands while travelling, the mind can wander to some funny places, enjoy.

“Why, do I look homesick? I asked

“No,” she replied, “I just wondered after a year of travel if you’d long for home”

It was the third time in as many days that I’d been asked if I was homesick, and in truth, I was feeling it. Ironically not because I actually wanted to go home, but rather because I met two wonderful people in San Gerardo Costa Rica and made a brief connection. I then found myself headed through Panama to Bocas Del Toro staring out of the bus window wistfully watching as the sunset over the beautiful mountain side.

As the sky went crimson and the peaks disappeared, I realized that what makes me homesick is the beauty I’m experiencing all around me. It’s not a desire to go home, rather I wish I could carry the people from home with me and share everything I’m experiencing with them. It’s irrational; I know believe me, were they with me my trip would surely be nothing like the one I wish to share with them. Somehow I still can’t but feel a tear in my mind’s eye when I find myself staring off the peak of some equatorial mountain and thinking of the snow caps of my home north of the 49th parallel.

Sometimes I feel like I fall in love too easily, that I get lost in each and every sunset and lament their loss over the horizon. I stare out from an eye-popping peak, breath in the crisp air and wonder how anything can be better. I get caught in the moment and hours can pass when a new found friend shares their innermost thoughts, hopes, and fears.

Every time I move on to my next place I mourn the loss of the last, I know in my heart that everything cannot be at all times but my heart is irrational however logical my mind is. So logic moves on, to the next city, the next vista, the next beach, and on to other countries leaving bits of my heart along the way. Ironically, the beat does not grow fainter or smaller with each loss but bigger and stronger. After each stop there is but more to give and share, more wisdom, caring, empathy, and love; I’m more eager to listen and feel.

As I move the collection of those people and places I wish to move with me grows ever larger, it’s a wonder sometimes how it can all be fit in but it does. I feel I can’t go on, that I want to stay here and now, but I must go, we all must. As I do, I realize there is more to experience than I ever dreamed possible, that the point in the distance never moves, no matter how much ground I cover. I keep walking however still wondering if I’ll ever reach it.

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