Poet Elizabeth Bishop writes of how the art of losing isn't hard to master.
I'd have to disagree and say that the art of leaving is much easier to perfect.
Since my first time traveling, I caught the bug: wanderlust.
That longing to be in transit;
be liminal, at least for a few weeks.
The past four years I've set out each summer
with a gypsy soul, my passport, and too many shoes
to visit some random country and escape from "my" world.
I always wanted to leave--be somewhere bigger, smaller, better
anywhere but where I was at that specific moment.
I guess it's this initial pull to leave that led me to decide to pack my bags,
jump on a plane, and move to Thailand for the next year.
So back to the art of leaving
you pack a bag, grab your passport, and hop on the next plane out.
Even when I'm unsure of what to expect, afraid of the unknown,
my feet always walk me on the plane and off to my next adventure.
This time is no different.
Even though I hated hugging my family and friends goodbye
[or rather, see you soon]
and it hurt my heart to leave my beloved Athens,
My feet magically walked me onto the plane
[with my heart torn between the call of wanderlust and the comfort of staying with those I love]
Ready to start the next big adventure.
As Edward Abbey writes,
“My loyalties will not be bound by national borders, or confined in time by one nation’s history,
or limited in the spiritual dimension by one language and culture.
I pledge my allegiance to the damned human race, and my everlasting love to the green hills of Earth, and my intimations of glory to the singing stars, to the very end of space and time."
Time to push myself to not be limited by one culture
[hopefully I'll pick up some of the language too]
So there you have it:
The art of leaving isn't hard to master,
Especially when you're on the cusp of such an exciting adventure.