Self-Discoveries

Travel, once upon a time, was extremely painful for me. I grew up in a small rural town and a settled family, non-travelers for the most part who rarely took vacations or went further than the next county away from home. Nearsighted and prone to motion-sickness, I found even medium-length car trips difficult by the age of four. Later I begged to stay home from school bus trips, and even in high school, though I always went on band trips for winter concerts or the marching competitions we participated in all summer, I'd often spend the day before in semi-panic. Because I was a smart and talented kid from a fairly well-off family, I grew up knowing other children would only be too happy to find a reason to laugh at me.  This suffering, which I experienced as an interior anxiety, anguish and shame, battled with my increasing curiosity about the larger world. Gradually the latter won out: I went anyway when the opportunities beckoned. I took dramamine for the motion sickness, and aspirin for my severe menstrual cramps, and began to discover that I could survive, my anxiety mostly undetected by classmates, teachers, and boyfriends, because that was the worst of it: the fear that my capability and apparent calmness would be unmasked, and this darker, frightened self revealed.

Travel outside the family cocoon presented another problem. I was, fortunately or not, very empathetic and observant, aware both of the range of emotions and reactions in the people around me, and of subtle variations in the visual landscape. I quickly saw, for instance, how people in another place were dressed and how they behaved. If someone I was travelling with was loud or awkward, I saw it immediately, and noticed other people's reactions. I was hyper-aware of my own clothes, shoes, and hair, and -- because no one had ever suggested anything different -- I thought other people were equally aware. It would be many years before I realized that no one in a strange city gives a damn about your appearance; most of them will never see you again. And, conversely, that strangers are compassionate and helpful; awkward situations usually work out and teach us something in the process; that vulnerability is not to be feared.

The choice to attend a big university changed me a great deal. Afterwards I moved away to New England, where I knew no one, started a business, made friends. I found out that I loved to fly. During my short-lived first marriage, I went on an extended six-week trip to Europe. And then, in my late twenties, I met and married a man from a foreign family: citizens of the world who knew many languages and had lived and traveled widely. Gradually, with J., I learned to be more comfortable in urban environments, especially New York, and with more frequent travel. But it was London that changed me the most; during a series of trips in the 1980s and 90s I discovered the joy of being alone in a foreign city, the pleasure of anonymity, the pride of coping with new things, the passion for exploring and discovering things on my own. Without the gifts that London gave me, I would never have been able to move to Montreal.

Before this trip I hadn't been in London for eleven years. I was curious to see how it had changed, but what I didn't expect was the mirror it held up to me, reflecting how I had changed, too. Walking the old streets, entering familiar tube stations and later emerging up the long escalators, I watched myself, fifty-nine years old now instead of forty-eight, a woman altered by world events, of course, by deaths and dislocations, relinquishments and accomplishments too, but also simply by another decade of living, thinking, reading, and communicating with others.

I found myself much less rattled by anything; at first this seemed almost like indifference, but I realized it wasn't, it was just a sort of calmness that has come from seeing more and more of life. And with that greater calmness, a freedom to be myself: not caring too much about what others think, and not judging them, either; worrying less about what might happen and simply being present to whatever was in front of my senses at the moment. I was far less concerned with rushing to accomplish everything on some sort of "travelers's list", and much more content to go with the flow of the days and the people with whom we were in contact; an irony, perhaps, for someone who is becoming more and more aware of mortality, loss, and the shortness of time. And yet, that's exactly how it was, and is: a palpable relief, and the discovery of an even greater freedom.

1) A chestnut burr, Hyde Park

2) A juvenile coot on the edge of the Serpentine, Hyde Park.

3) Arch, Marlborough Gate, Kensington Gardens.

4) Aphrodite riding on a swan, red-figured kylix, c. 460 BC, British Museum.

Comments

[Uma]

"Before this trip I hadn't been in London for eleven years. I was curious to see how it had changed, but what I didn't expect was the mirror it held up to me, reflecting how I had changed, too."

This is a beautiful post, Beth. Thanks for this!

[Siona]

Beth... only that I loved this post, and only that I've told you this before, but again I take such delight and something-deeper-than-comfort in absorbing an example of someone so comfortable circling into herself, and holding a space of such calm. It's less inspiring (even if I devoted everything to attaining this I'm not sure I'd be capable!) than it is reassuring; it makes me love an otherwise-sometimes-unnerving future, and I am grateful.

Safe travels for the remainder of your trip, and so many thanks for the stories--

[Mouse]

such a beautiful post and how lovely to read such an open and honest account.
I share many of your feelings except that it was Paris that brought me out of my shell and where I discovered my true self

[Ivy]

How wonderfully you write and such a pleasure to read this today. x

[Natalie]

Beth, it's so refreshing and enlightening to read your inner-outer travel notes, seeing through your eyes and feelings. A privilege and a joy. Thank you.

[john]

The best posts are when you share and here you share a lot. About your last sentence, one of the interesting moments this week was rehearing something I had heard years ago but this week was all over the Internet:Steve Job's 2005 commencement speech to Stanford students.In it he speaks wise words about death and how liberating our appreciation of its nearness can be.We realize maybe only then " There is no reason not to follow your heart"

[Marja-Leena]

Beautiful and heart-stirring, Beth! It's almost a cliché to say that travel changes us. Life changes us for we do keep growing, at least we hope we do as you have done. Thanks so much for sharing these deep thoughts and feelings much of which I can deeply identify with but can't express the way you do.

[Laura]

Dear Beth, even in my severe cold-addled state, I take great pleasure in what you've written. I will come back and say more when I can. And welcome back to you, too, dear woman.

[Lucy]

So good to read of another person who found travel disturbing and difficult - I felt it was something other people, friends and family, were obviously suited to better than I could be, that it was only for the brave and the strong, I was clearly a wimp, and so I cried off it at a time when I had the youth and freedom to do it. Now I have grown into myself more, I'm sure I could do it and draw much more deeply from it, but unfortunately, following your heart means making choices which preclude other choices.

Living permanently in a foreign country, embracing simplicity (frugality/poverty!), quiet and space, committing to the ties of home, marriage, dog etc means that far-flung adventures are for the moment not very feasible. But then adventures can take many forms...

I have loved your photos and notes of your travels, and particularly like the travelling Aphrodite here!

[Marja-Leena]

Pardon me, Beth, I just have to second Lucy's comments which apply to my life as well, especially: "embracing simplicity (frugality/poverty!), quiet and space, committing to the ties of home, marriage, dog etc means that far-flung adventures are for the moment not very feasible. But then adventures can take many forms..." Minus the dog in our case, but replace with offspring. This chair and the internet with so many wonderful blogs provide a lot of the joys of travel and connections without the discomfort, stresses, expenses and pollution of travel. A few shorter trips on our own lovely corner of the world have given us immense pleasure, just like you have been doing in your part of the world, Lucy. Maybe that's a good thing for our suffering earth as well, not that I'm criticizing your trip, Beth, for we did the same two years ago.

[Lilian Nattel]

I loved reading this. It made me smile with gladness for you. I also have travel issues, including motion sickness when I was young, though the rest is different, relating to childhood abuse. I've overcome my travel reluctance for higher purposes--I traveled in Europe, the UK, the US and Canada for my books, and to China 2x for my children. I like being in new places if I'm there long enough to get used to them. Getting there is another story. I have to say though that the 2nd time to China because I'd been there before was much easier. I knew I'd had less culture shock in China than in the suburbs!

[Laura]

What a generous essay, Beth. As for London... I lived there preThatcher and spent lots of time there otherwise in my earlier life. I find it almost unrecognizable now. My last trip five or so years ago made me so sad, I felt as though I never needed to return. After reading your London posts, I feel I should go back and revisit it with a kinder, less jaded eye.

[Jan]

I love this post, Beth. That very self-awareness you once had (and with which I can identify) is what makes you aware of details now, lets you drink them in. Think of the other kids who wandered through crowds barely noticing their surroundings, absorbed in their own teen conversations. I bet they grew up to be adults who wander through crowds, barely noticing their surroundings. It's nice to carry some things forward while we gain confidence and understanding of our own place in the world. Thank you so much for sharing. It really warms my heart.