I am 46 years old and I am not living my life, at least not fully, not the life I had envisioned.
I was supposed to travel, cross the Americas in a van, hike through landscapes, publish books, and take photos. Instead, I earn a living, maintain a house, and raise two children.
I have lost sight of my life’s mission. I feel stuck in the daily grind, afraid of how quickly time has passed.
I have been a traveler since I learned to walk, with a family spread across two continents and parents whose curiosity shaped my own. I have known since I was 16 that a crucial stage of my life would be simple and nomadic. I agreed to postpone this dream for the sake of my relationships, naively thinking that my sacrifices and support would be recognized and reciprocated and that one day I would share my dream with one of these relationships.
The reality of dominant heteronormativity pull the rug out from under me, pushed me off the cliff, and complained that I wasn’t getting up fast enough.
I complained that I wasn’t getting up fast enough.
I had to prioritize, manage, objectify, care for, and support. I had to claim the right, the space to support myself.
Six years later, I realize how much I live only in small fragments. As if I had to rethink my dreams on the cheap, because reality, capitalism, security, and family are all insurmountable obstacles.
This has allowed me to revisit my life mission11. And the prospect of continuing to live my current life — admittedly comfortable, sometimes joyful, moderately complicated, interesting, and fulfilling — makes me terribly sad. Waiting for the few days of annual vacation doesn’t allow me to do the travelings I want to do, the kind that require time.
It has become obvious to me that I need to set myself a goal: I want to take a sabbatical at age 50 and travel. My dream is to travel across the Americas in a van with my children for a year, not only for the countries we will see, but also for the perspective through which I hope to discover them, and for the stories, reflections, and little revelations that will punctuate our journey.
Under Open Skies is my space for dreaming, organizing, and questioning. I don’t want to just check boxes (even though my brain REALLY likes lists AND crossing items off the list) of what I should do during my journey. My kind of travel isn’t rushed; it’s about taking the time to meet people without judging them, to embrace a world that is often too fast, too harsh, and too shaped by systems of oppression. My journey is meant to be a time for reflection, resistance, and a breath of fresh air in the midst of it all.
I can only promise myself to do my best to achieve my goal, to try not to lose myself too much along the way. Perhaps you will witness my failure. Perhaps you will witness the joy of my success.
Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace el camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante no hay camino
sino estelas en la mar.
Antonio Machado
- Saturn rules my ascendant and is located in the 9th house, which governs travel, education, publishing, and philosophy. Some would say it was written in the stars, since its position indicates the areas that guide my life’s mission. Pure coincidence? ↩︎
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