There is a kind of magicness about going far away and then coming back all changed.
Pilgrim — a traveler that is taken seriously. A Pilgrim Father was one who, leaving Europe in 1620 because not permitted to sing psalms through his nose, followed it to Massachusetts, where he could personate God according to the dictates of his conscience.
Have you ever seen a little girl run so fast she falls down? There's an instant, a fraction of a second before the world catches hold of her again... a moment when she's outrun every doubt and fear she's ever had about herself and she flies. In that one moment, every little girl flies.
I need to find that again. Like taking a car out into the desert to see how fast it can go, I need to find the edge of me. And maybe, if I fly far enough, I'll be able to turn around and look at the world... and see where I belong.
''I did not tell half of what I saw, for I knew I would not be believed"
Call it cabin fever. After a while, I get itchy feet.
As for traveling: everyone dislikes traveling until they actually go on a trip.
I'd always been drawn to the purity of the desert, its hot wind and wide, open spaces. But mainly I was bored of life in the city, with its repetitions, my half-finished, half-hearted attempts at jobs and various studies. And I was sick of carrying around the self-indulgent negativity that was so much the malaise of my generation, my sex and my class.