San Francisco is teaching me that home can be a person, but on a greater level, home is all of the people in our life, whose combined presence forms an emotional foundation just as significant as any physical one.
Here in Catalonia, where there’s such a debate taking place over the region’s future, it seemed all the more important—vital, even—to understand Girona’s past before I could begin to imagine its path forward.
For me, every connection is a tiny knot in the thousand fraying threads we carry with us. Every encounter is a part of the larger tapestry coming to life, slowly being woven into significance.
The Santa Marta I’ve come to know doesn’t feel too especially historic, at least not after my initial week in Cartagena. What it feels like is local, unassuming, lived in, and for this reason I have grown to love it.
For isn’t seeing the truest, most important thing? And isn’t it the very reason we travel? To see the world for ourselves – with our own eyes and ears, and with our own hands and hearts.
From beautiful Vashon Island in the Pacific Northwest to the infinite beaches of the Outer Banks in North Carolina, I tried to pull out my sketchbook as often as possible during this stateside summer.
The past four days gifted me a series of phrases that have been circling in my head from the moment I heard them, so this year I thought – why not let Book Passage speak for itself?
As I studied the Puget Sound in my scooter’s rear-view mirror, I realized then that the greatest gift that Vashon gave me this summer was the gift of reflection – the gift of looking back.
It’s yet another lesson I’ve learned this year: As scary as the unknown can be – be it our future or simply a new corner of the world – it’s up to us to finally fill in the blanks…not to mention our sketchbooks.
I’m learning that just because our dreams change and take on a different shape doesn’t mean we’re giving up on them – it simply means we’re listening to what’s working. We’re listening to the flow.