The beginning of a new journey requires an openness to expect the unexpected. What fun would it be if all answers were given to you. My greatest desire is to see a new world, to meet strangers that can become friends. The art of travel isn’t having the perfect irtenery, its in the moments of getting lost and the random moment I discover something new. It’s creating memories that will return to me and take home that make travel worth it all.
When we take the time to learn another’s journey and see the battle fields with our own eye, that generations after are still fighting. Their stories open our hearts and now have a name and a face to stories that were told to us growing up.
The company of friends, the connections we grow as we walk the city, drive the highway and fly through the clouds, together we make everywhere we go, home.
New Orleans is alive and well. History happened here, and the community’s will to overcome has once again made the city come to life. Its a place where strangers work together to create music, to sing above the hardships many had to face through out history. The ghost of the past haunt the streets, but its the life of the present that brightens up each street corner. If you stop to smile, you will receive a smile back. We walked the fields of slaves, visited a house of slaves owners, and felt the aches of hearts broken at the cost of profits. It was the sight I saw the day before we left that help me process history’s ugly past, there in front of me was a couple who was black and white ridding bikes together along the Mississippi River. I am fortunate to be part of history, for I myself am free to travel the world to see the stories of others unfold before me.
The past few months I’ve noticed the little details of my life. I can’t help but see how privileged I am..dinner with my family, laughing with Gus, working at The Rock, blogging in my blue room… I go to bed in peace and wake up in peace. Yet, I ask my self questions about life. Questions I ask not in disappointment or boredom but more of responsibility.
This morning I heard a report of a young Pakistan girl who has blogged about life for the BBC. The Taliban closed down her school, not allowing girls to study. At age 11, she started speaking publicly about the need for girls’ education. She was even rewarded the Pakistan’s first peace prize.
Her school was reopened, but on Tuesday the rebels found her and shot her. They saw this now 14 year old girl as a threat. They said she was preaching western ideas. Now she is in the hospital fighting for her life.
When hearing about Malala, I was reminded of what I read from Story by Robert Mckee about writing characters. He summed up humanity beautifully:
“…despite all the clear differences among people. the truth is we are all far more a like than we are different. We are all human. We all share the same crucial human experiences. Each of us is suffering and enjoying, dreaming and hoping for getting through our day with something of value. As a writer, you can be certain that everyone coming down the street towards you, each in his own way, is having the same fundamental human thoughts and feelings that you are…” Humanity isn’t a western idea but a human one.
Its strange to think of girls who are living in my generation with little or no freedom. She was shot for sharing her thoughts and now its clear how powerful one voice is. She is being heard all over the world. The Taliban’s goal was to destroy her message but instead spread the fire to others, her peers and now to us- who have taken their freedom for granted.
And now the question is, what will we do with our freedom?
May 3, 2010 I received the package I have been waiting for. I couldn’t wait to take a photo. So, I put in the battery and memory card in my new camera and snapped! I melted the first time I saw it. I am in love.
At first I was afraid of this camera. I was afraid of having no more excuses. But a good friend of mine helped me change my perspective. He told me “Now it’s 100% creative freedom and potential!”
I’m no longer afraid of myself.