Waking up was hard today. I haven’t felt that struggle since working at the bank when I dreaded facing the daily grind. The three Irish backpackers in my room got up one by one in the darkness, readied themselves, and went off to their working holiday jobs. I felt just a little more at ease in the silence of the room.
The rain starts to fall right as I leave my massage session with Kenny. I expected nothing sunnier at this hour, days in Kuala Lumpur aren’t so confusing. It starts out sunny, gets extremely hot and humid by mid-day, and then the rain comes before sunset. I needed to break up my similar routine a bit, which is why I went for the blind massage.
Australia? New Zealand? Australia. No wait... New Zealand. I’ve been going back and forth on these two places for nearly a month now. This is splitting my mind in two and my decision-making skills are fragmenting all over Malaysia as I try to solve such a trivial dilemma. So then I thought, what if I don’t choose at all?
Who are you? Why are you reading this? And how would I know what you feel unless you told me?There ought to be a shift from passively viewing one another on social media, to actively starting out with a simple hi. Here's why.
I try my best to keep writing on the road, but in a constant state of motion it’s not always easy to get into the rhythm of writing and working as I normally do. It seems to be about finding the places that inspire and changing mindsets. That’s when things get done.
Imagine spending a month on a serene, quiet beach with your thoughts and all of nature’s beauty. Then imagine the next day abruptly switching into a packed van with an angry Cambodian driver and being dropped off in the heart of chaotic Khaosan Road in Bangkok.
When you spend your time in a lonely paradise, you have no choice but to merge with the quiet beauty of not only the place, but of your thoughts and insecurities. When you spend time alone, you have to go deeper inside the workings of your mind.
I fall asleep under a mosquito net. I wake to the sounds of the birds and the leaves. I shower next to a tree under the clouds and walk barefoot on the dirt and sand. I am living more closely to nature than ever before.
Welcome to the real world. A line overheard from someone in their home country advising a traveller abroad about his future. The line is meant to convey that his travel life isn’t ‘real’ and that he should soon return to the status quo...
More highs and more lows -- these are the things I was expecting when I left on this journey. With this pursuit of aliveness and adventure comes the challenge of realizing that state of mind controls our wellbeing more than any other.
Warmth and cleanliness… it’s been days since I’ve felt either -- until today. The north of Vietnam was unusually cold and damp, and staying at budget hostels certainly didn’t allow for me to avoid the chilly winds and filth so easily.
It occurred to me, while hunched over an outdoor toilet by my cold bungalow in mountainous Northern Thailand, that I’d never gone a full 24-hours without eating food in my life. In this bout of stomach sickness caused by the food (for the first time in 4 months eating cheap food in Asia- not bad), I had been brought down - though only temporarily.
The former monk told us that there were four ways to get to the place we needed to go. East, West, North, or South. I came to volunteer on his organic farm for the holidays because I was hoping for some sense of mindfulness education and exposure to farming life. But as I was departing...
It doesn’t matter which time zone I’m in or which continent I’m on – I have something to confess. Borders won’t keep me confined to my truth any longer; the majority will not bully me into pretending to be someone I’m not.
The traveller's road is well paved with those pursuing paradise. Some young backpackers look for good times and cheap drinks, but then there are many others looking for an idealized form of paradise. Some believe it can be found somewhere on the road, as though they’ll find that right place to solve their troubles.
Attending a silent retreat in rural Bali was the perfect way to spend my final days in Indonesia and to reflect on the last three months spent on the island. I came to the retreat looking for silence and rest, and went away with an entirely new understanding of food, community, and alternative ways of living.