Le Moi Errant : The path

Traveling is letting the way find us. Sounds simple, but the obstacle is more complicated than it seems. I was accustomed to seek for what I want. This was a natural instinct. Almost unconsciously, trying to build momentum. As we learn to build our life. But that blind us to what is around us and we never find the way.

I had to redo the way my life was before. And this change has opened unexpected doors to me. Today I feel a strange calm. Occasionally, even uncomfortable. I was accustomed to the emotional roller coaster. For years fueled me to write. I feel now that I have to rebuild to continue that dream.

But I know that from this reconstruction is born something more powerful. More genuine than what I had done to date. I start now to tailor my tools. Little by little. With the assurance that the writer in me will find me. Like did the way. I won a battle with my greatest enemy - myself - aware that others will come.

But what is my path? It's the one of moments, smiles and looks. The path of coincidences and emotions. Feeling each site that is offered me. They are small clues that lead me to the next step of this journey ...

Le Moi Errant: The writer in me ...

This trip has brought many special moments. Each, a treasure that I keep  and changes me. Perhaps the biggest change is to admit what I always been: a writer. I know the tough road ahead. The nightmares of the blank paper, the fear of the opinion of others. Showing what you write is always an intimate act. And is the moment of our greatest weakness.

Until now I always pointed writing to the place of dreams. Those things you want to do but in your intimate find it impossible. It was the simplest solution. If writing exposes our weaknesses, the commit that we are writers - not accountants, doctors, teachers, security guards, receptionists, etc ... - is an emotional suicide. After you do this - assuming that I am a writer - there is no possible return.

But it's the only way to realize our dream. It's necessary that commitment. Only with the possibility of failure that one can achieve something. I came to realize that with this trip. Not only it represents the fulfillment of a dream, but demonstrates that, beyond this first step, there is no hell but life.

I don't know yet the writer in me. It is a work in progress. Just know that I am. Always have been. Just didn't have the courage to say so. And now let come the success and failure. the hard work and some inspiration. And then, as with everything in life, we'll see ...

P.S. I dedicate this post to three future writers I met along the way. They guided me to this moment. Allowed me these words. And I cross my fingers so that you have all the success ...

Le Moi Errant: The beginning

I conclude my first month of travel with a new rubric. I would like to thank Suzzanne and Ana Salvador for guiding me to this title. This space will be the one where I try to describe the inner journey inside my adventure. Travelling is to look around as it is to wandering inside. I hope you enjoy this rubric.

The start couldn't be more intense. There were many emotions, episodes and moments. It is, above all, a time to accommodate feelings and to confront with a new reality. Irt is very different from what I expected. No matter what, we create expectations, idealize situations. The reality is always different. And I know that though I try to put into words what I live, this can only be felt when traveling. Perhaps it was my first surprise, the difference between the ideal and reality.

At first we tried to achieve what we dream. See what we wanted to see. But in my case, I had to abandon that feeling. The reality is what it is, and more than to accomplish what I dreamed, I want to live the present. It was difficult to exchange the eagerness to see with the calm of being. I know I'm losing a lot. That many sites I won't see. But I also know I have a lifetime to do so. More than a list of to-do's, I want to find my trip.

It's an uncomfortable feeling that you have with a such desirable world close to you and you choose not to go everywhere. But travel is also going in search of discomfort. Perhaps this is what forces a traveler to change inside. Fight against his natural instinct of protection. And when we are in a comfortable place, we're going into the unknown once again. But this change, this discomfort compels your spirit to be totally open. You look more carefully at where you are. Inside, you feel an insecurity that you end up controlling. Where you go is more important than feelings.

I know that one month is not enough to say that I changed, but the reality is what happened. Looking at myself leaving for this trip is something already far away.. The change is diffuse and sublime. Something that I cannot grasp yet, but a change nonetheless...