There’s a Lao-tzu quote I’m very fond of.
“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”
This resonates with me. You're always on your way somewhere. It’s not the somewhere that matters, it’s the way. In this case, I’m on a train headed to New York City to visit family.
I had a few bumps in my plans to be on this train. For one, the station I prefer to use is on a military base, and they just changed the rules for getting access to said base. So I had to change my reservation to the next station up the line. For another, last night we recorded a new episode of the podcast, which got me to bed a bit later than I’d like, but was entirely worth it. Then this morning, when I got up, it was snowing!
Not a problem though. I have a very, very warm coat I bought back in November, for the trip Mama and I took to Iceland for our anniversary. Plus, it was still in the back of my car, along with the incredibly warm hat she had knit for me, and my convertible finger-gloves. So I got in the car a bit earlier than I had originally planned, and got on my way. I noted with satisfaction as I packed the car that I had packed properly. Not too much stuff, not too little.
I stopped, picked up breakfast including a very hot coffee, and arrived at the station with a good 40 minutes to wait. Which was both good and bad. Because the little waiting room/coffee shop was closed, locked up tight. And it was 24º outside.
I was reasonably comfy in my cold weather gear, so I sat and chatted amiably with some of my fellow passengers. One lady was an arrival from Boston by bus, and her ride was nowhere in sight. So I called someone for her, and waited with her until they came.
The thing I’m grateful for is this skill I have, which I picked up as a child. My family traveled a lot when I was a kid. My dad had this weird job that made him travel all the time. During the summers, we frequently took long, complex trips with him all over the world. So I learned pretty early on how to travel well. It’s a combination of a couple of things. One, pack sensibly, so you can move easily. And two, even more importantly, lean into flexibility, and make do with what you have. It’s a special kind of transit-flavored mindfulness.
I’ve written before about how my dad was a terrible person, which is still true. But I am grateful to him for my travel experiences, and the attitudes and skills I acquired through them.
I’m comfortably seated in the café car on the train, ready to settle down to a nice little marathon of coding on my way up. I’ve carved myself this comfortable little space in which to relax and work, while I watch the miles roll by. It’s a familiar feeling, which is simultaneously adventurous and feels like coming home.
I’m grateful for it.