Explore. Dream. Discover

              

Three times in my life I threw off the bowlines and jumped on a plane. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve flown other times. But these times, these were trips everyone told me not to take. Trips that scared the begeezus out of many people close to me. Some freaked, others cheered, some shook their heads, some got irrationally angry. It was not easy to silence all those exterior voices and do what I wanted - what I knew I needed in that time.

It is never easy to do that, and I’ve decided it never will be.

 I’m not going to let that stop me anymore.

Those three trips stand out as three of the most freeing, authentic, soul singing moments in my memory.

               First, when I was in college, I flew to LA to stay with a friend. I sat outside their house and listened to the breeze and soaked up the California sun and wrote and wrote and wrote. I drove the Pacific Highway. I went to the beach. I loved it. I wanted to live there. I had no aspirations of being an actress or a famous singer. Maybe I’d sing in a bar here or there or do a karaoke night. Or just write songs and work a day job. I just wanted to be there, to have an adventure, to do something different before the reality of life started. But I didn’t. I would’ve had to go it alone and I was too scared. It’s always been a great regret of mine that I didn’t take that risk when I was young and able to. I wish I’d packed my car and couch surfed until I got my feet under me. I wish I’d thrown off the bow lines. I didn’t, but that trip marks the first time I stepped out in that way, at least initially. Despite everyone and everything around me telling me not to, I went. I’ve never been sorry.

               Second, just after college, I flew to Norway to visit friends and my boyfriend at the time. I got the cheapest plane ticket I could find, which involved not 1, not 2, but 3 plane changes. My luggage got lost somewhere between Chicago and Sweden and I lived in borrowed clothes for half the week I was there. It was magical. I saw the fjords, played in the snow, shopped Karl Johann under twinkling Christmas lights, had an epic New Year’s with friends, spent time with someone I cared about deeply, and got to see a different part of the world. Even the grocery store is an adventure when you’re in another country. I’ve loved Norway ever since. Everything about it. Food, people, language, weather (even the snow), philosophy, holidays – all of it. I didn’t move to Norway. I’ve always wished I’d thrown off the bowlines and at least given it a chance. I listened to those around me and let fear stop me. Things didn’t work out, but I’ve always wished I’d tried harder. But for that moment, despite everyone and everything around me telling me not to, I went. I’ve never been sorry.

               Two months ago, I jumped a plane to London. People who didn’t know me during the California and Norway trips lost their minds. Those who’ve been around longer either shook their head in resignation or cheered me on, but they didn’t try to talk me out of it. Not even my parents - I think even they’ve resigned themselves to the fact that sometimes, I need to do these things. It was everything I thought it would be. I mastered the tube, I ate some of the most delicious food. I pretended I was Julia Roberts and stayed in Nottinghill. I sang the song from my favorite childhood Angela Lansbury movie, Bed knobs & Broomsticks, while walking down Portobello Road. I saw Buckingham, waved hi to William and Kate as I passed Kensington Palace. I had a quiet moment watching children play and laugh on the Princess Diana Memorial Playground and thought there was no better way to honor everyone’s princess. I indulged my inner history nerd and did a Jack the Ripper tour and spent a day in the Tower of London. I got a bird’s eye view from the London Eye. I walked Westminster Abbey and got teary eyed in Poet’s Corner, silently thanking Lord Byron, Shakespeare, and so many others for the words that got me through AP English and the angst of high school. They were among the first that taught me to love poetry. I spent quiet moments in my tiny English garden behind my tiny Nottinghill flat, and walked down the street to make new friends and watch football in the local pub. I tried Sunday roast and bubble and squeak. It was a pilgrimage. It was solace. It was an adventure. For a moment, I threw off the bowlines. I’ll never be sorry.

               I’m not saying I need to escape my life regularly. That’s not the point of hopping a plane, at least not for me. The world is a big place. I’m fascinated by it. People all over live differently than you and me. America, and even Texas, is not the center of the world. The way we live is not the only way to live. The way I worship or eat or commute or talk or think – is not the only way to do those things. It’s important to me to see the world. It’s something I’ve denied myself for a long time. It’s something I plan to show my children when they get just a bit older, because Mama don’t play when it comes to exploring and you better be able to keep up.

It’s a big reason why I work and why I want to be financially sound. So I can give them these opportunities, so they can see parts of the world, both in the US and across the many ponds that separate us. It’s easy to stereotype, it’s easy to be afraid, it’s easy to misunderstand that which we do not know and have not seen. Everywhere I’ve met nice people, helpful people, people just as excited to meet someone from Texas as I am to meet someone from Lebanon working and living in London. I want my boys to see that too, and to know early on that it’s ok to go against the grain, whatever that looks like for them, if they know it’s what they need.

It’s not always convenient or the smartest thing financially to do. But if it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. Whether it be hopping a plane or camping out under a sky down the road, or even as simple as a cup of afternoon tea in a different café than Starbucks, take some time to be alone in your head and figure out what it is that sets your soul on fire. Knowing that, and honoring it, at least for me, makes me a better person in my every day life. Feeding my soul and my heart is something I let go of for a long time. It took me until 41 to realize that throwing off the bowlines can be a good thing. If you do it right, you’ll never be sorry.

The knowledge I hold the closest is that these three times represent when I most listened to myself. It’s hard to drown out the voices of others, especially when they are coming from well-meaning people that love you. But the truth is only you know you. And if you don’t know you….well, explore, dream, and discover yourself. No one else cares about your dreams as much as you do. Shouldn’t you know what those dreams are?

My niece made a video of my trip to London for me with a special surprise - a well wish from my favorite Todrick Hall!! 

Happy Trails 😊